


A Series of Complicated Events

by still_loading



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Avenger Bucky Barnes, Bucky Is Also a Mentor, Canon-Typical Violence, DC/Marvel crossover, Dream Sharing, Freeform, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hydra Returns, Identity Porn, M/M, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_loading/pseuds/still_loading
Summary: Jason Todd was convinced he had no soulmate. Aiden Pearce appears in one too many of his dreams to be a coincidence. Finding out they were each other's soulmates prompts a lot of secrets and raises a few questionable resemblances with their individual enemy. At least they can agree that they don't want each other. But that certainly doesn't mean they won't need each other when a greater threat is afoot. It just takes a while to get to the that phase.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's pretty much my first time (in a long time) I'm adding fanfiction onto the web. In the past, I'd write about a specific ship, so it felt a bit foreign to insert my own major OC. But this fic is a filled with a bunch of first's. I'm both a fan of Marvel and DC and am part of the population who'd think it'd be pretty rad if their worlds clashed every now and then. 
> 
> Anyways, a few things to keep in mind here is there's plenty of mentions of various events that has occurred in the Marvel and DC universe. The timeline may be pretty jumbled up if I have to be really honest. Though, I don't think it's necessary to be familiar with both universes to completely understand the plot. But as you will notice, the first half of the story takes place prior to the events that unfold in CA:TWS -- minus much of the winter soldier part and more of the Shield part.
> 
> The complete story has, for the most part, been written. Later chapters are still in the process of being developed but won't immediately influence the posting schedule of the first handful of chapters. I'm not entirely sure on a set posting schedule since I may later feel the need to delve deeper into certain chapters/re-read/edit/ the whole works. Roughly looking at what I have written for the whole story, it is undoubtedly longer than I've ever would've expected *sweats*
> 
> But enjoy the mesh of soulmate tropes as well as the sprinkles of drama and gallons of angst ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter from space and the heavens, Aiden J. Pearce, the kid Shield forces the Winter Soldier to babysit. It's not as bad as it sounds.

The world is slightly different here and there when he opens his eyes.

It wasn't to a bed or the very least some form of shelter. Instead, he's outstretched across an open park bench with the sun's rays beaming directly down at him.

The first thing he done upon waking up was wander the streets of New York City until he feels the familiar ache in his legs and feet begging him for a rest. The first thing he  _should've_  done was consider this whole situation was a red flag. That, and his inability to clearly remember anything before now--like the important bit of information that would explain how he got here.

At least he remembers his name.

Aiden manages to cross the Queensboro Bridge in time to see a mesh of red and blue from his peripherals. He knows what he sees once he lifts his gaze, but he doesn't know if he's just hallucinating because he sees Spiderman in the flesh--no trip wires, no stunt-doubles or a big Hollywood scene set-up blocking 39th street, but an actual  _guy_  swinging from building to building, over the train station tracks with  _webs_  shooting out of his wrist.

It was perplexing and immediately screamed that something was not exactly right. He had little to no idea how much weirder the world and his place in it was about to get.

Then a few black escalades corner him at Broadway just as he was crossing the street.

 

-

 

 

He isn't quite sure why Bucky Barnes hasn't given up yet. Sometimes, Aiden really expects the last shoe to drop. And it's the waiting in anticipation that has him gripping tightly to the handle of his hand-gun, his stance stiffening and over-shooting targets at the gun range. He resists sucking his teeth when from afar, he notices Agent Coulson promptly jotting something down on his clip board.

Even behind tinted goggles, Aiden feels the Winter Soldier consistently studying him. When the nerves get to him during training, he can't look Barnes in the face. In his defense, he should be more focused on the movement of limbs. During those instances, he stopped being surprised when the man's fist would connect with his flesh. He needed to ' _Pay attention_ ' as Bucky would immediately instruct once he stumbled back a few steps to nurse his abused body part.

 _Easy for you to say_ , Aiden opens his mouth ready to retort but thinks better against it.

Days where he manages to dodge getting hit determined whether the rest of it would include holding an ice bag or having free reign of using both his hands.

Aiden likes the Winter Soldier's impassive demeanor. He wouldn't openly admit it, but at this point he aspires to be as comfortable in high-risk situations--to be so  _sure_  that he'd have the upper hand in skill--regardless of who he was put up against.

Witnessing true power was inspiring, possessing it was influence. The Winter Soldier was his role model— _more or less_.

Good luck trying to get him to say that out loud.

Taking the time to mentor him was a wonder in itself. Not to say that Aiden's ungrateful—he's pretty honored if the history lessons they drilled into his head about the man were true. However, it does little to actually explain the 'altruistic' behavior. Generally, people aren't consciously altruistic. Give them time to think and it stops being a matter of caring and more of a transaction. In Bucky Barnes' case, don't damaged super-soldiers have other taxing things to do? Get revenge? Therapy? Date their hot red-head assassin teammate? Apparently not.

When the communicator in his ear crackles with the Winter Soldier's voice he knows to open the Quinjet door. Aiden makes his way to the door and crosses his arms over his chest while watching his mentor walk up the ramp. It's hard not to notice the controlled stride, the measured movements of someone with discipline and strategy so deeply ingrained in their program— _no_ , not program—livelihood. Bucky Barnes has long since escaped Hydra's mind control since the organization had been overthrown. Before that, he served in the army. The thing about the Winter Soldier is that every action is guarded-- _restrained_ ; rarely does he do something unnecessary. His movements are always purposeful.

"I know it's too early to ask, but it'd be great to know if I can do more than just watch you take head shots at the bad guys." Aiden's purposely not facing the cockpit and makes to look over his phone; a gift he received from Tony Stark over a few months ago when this 'arrangement' began.

"Don't get me wrong, it's pretty damn  _cool_  but why am I coming along if I can't do anything but sit and twiddle my thumbs in the jet?"

Prior to this he'd been confined to the tower and discouraged from joining any team missions. The most exposure to fighting had been in the padded communal gym with Tony Stark's inventions running drills with him (before that, the SHIELD basics boot-camp). Captain America—or  _Steve_ , as he often reminds Aiden to call him—reassures him that they're pretty efficient, admitting that he once used them.

Sometimes if Aiden's  _real_  lucky, some of the team would go a few rounds with him, either to keep him motivated or to gauge his progress. He wasn't quite sure if this sudden development could be called 'trust'.

Training with the Avengers was a surreal experience; let alone, training to become one of them led to some mixed feelings. The responsibilities demanded him to lay his life on the line for innocent bystanders all while being a team player (which he was not). He's more fond of spectator sports. Quite frankly, Aiden would've preferred to just get high and pretend this was all a construct of a very over-active imagination. One that specifically took his childhood obsession of superheroes to a new extreme. Maybe his real self was passed out in the backseat of his car or in a hospital bed from an unforeseen accident. It would be simple, uncomplicated.

Nearly a few months pass and Aiden never actually wakes up in either scenario.

Over his stay, it becomes abundantly clear that Tony Stark takes great pride in gloating about his inventions, even emphasizing on details to further accentuate his intellectual prowess. The Quinjet being one of his many successes that've been adopted by SHIELD (mostly with his reluctant permission). He shouldn't be surprised that the Quinjet had auto-pilot capabilities, but to Aiden's defense he'd blame it on his lack of exposure to the advanced aircraft's protocols (even from the great distance between Gotham and midtown Manhattan, he can sense Tony's eyes roll at this justification).

The most they taught him was how to open and close its door hatch which was embarrassing.

When he turns around to almost bump chests with the Winter Soldier he freezes, little did he know this would also cause his brain to come to a halt because it  _doesn't_  remember that he needs to take a step back. Aiden's lips are pursed into a very thin line that barely manages to hold back something as embarrassing as a yelp. He can't exactly bring his eyes up to meet the hidden expression on his mentor's face and settles for eyeing the robotic arm because Aiden hasn't seen it up this close. Sparring never allowed him to focus on the design closely, but more on dodging it at whatever cost.

In the twitch of his fingers, a small part of himself wants to reach out and trace over the curves and indentations separating the surface pieces.

"First thing's first is to get you familiar with the conditions of these situations." The Winter Soldier pats his shoulder in mild encouragement, but Aiden's not sure the words do much to inspire the feeling.

That draws Aiden to finally meet the Winter Soldier's eyes. Apparently he managed to slip off the tinted sunglasses while Aiden wasn't looking.

It's been little over three months since he's become an 'avenger-in-training' (according to Spider-man who manages the streets back in Queens), one month since the Winter Soldier decided to take him on as his charity project for the year. A part of him yearned for the structure that came with being baby-sat by SHIELD.

There have been more moments recently where the Winter Soldier slips into Bucky Barnes amidst a mission. Aiden catches it in the shift of his speech, a present Brooklyn-drawl that certainly shouldn't send a spark of excitement down his back. He never exactly knows how to respond to this shift, evidently he doesn't comment on it, compartmentalizes the conversations instead.

On the upside, despite Spiderman not dropping by Gotham often, he does keep a streak with Aiden on  _Snapchat._ When Tony catches wind of this (or more like when he pries over Aiden's shoulder) during breakfast one weekend, he's rolling his eyes and continues to the communal kitchen.

"This is what the future Avengers amount to huh." Tony sounds exasperated as he's reaching for the freshly brewed coffee. According to Clint, Tony was just jealous he couldn't understand the appeal of the app (not too long after, Clint asks Aiden to add him as a friend).

Aiden isn't sure how to feel about this information and opts for sending Spiderman a blurred picture snap of Tony with the caption ' _he called us future Avengers?_ '. Then promptly adds Clint by username.

Quickly after, Spider-man replies to him with a black screen and an all-caps message ' _WE'LL BE THE COOLEST AVENGERS EVER. PLS DON'T TELL MR STARK I SAID THAT_ '.

 

-

 

They assigned him a psychiatrist and Aiden is outwardly  _offended_ by this news. After all, there is a very clear distinction between  _experiencing_  crazy and actually  _being_  crazy.

Nick Fury so cryptically reasons that this arrangement was due to his 'unique' circumstances in addition to vague mentions of a required screening process. Aiden translates this into being a trust exercise because Fury certainly considered him a loose cannon; an uncontrolled variable. SHIELD wasn't very keen on having liabilities, Aiden quickly finds out.

Slowly, he begins to empathize with Tony Stark's disdain for the man.

The psychiatrist however was not stationed at SHIELD's head-quarters and required him to be formally escorted to the private property. His SHIELD advisers neglected to explain their affiliation with the secret government company. Upon stepping out of the vehicle and shortly after a brief walk to the front door, his heart hammers against his chest wall; anxiety catching up with the rest of the situation. He shouldn't be too honest, too much honesty could get him involuntarily checked into a mental institution.

Two knocks are all it takes before the door is opened revealing a middle-aged man, well-groomed and distinguished both in posture and the particular attention to detail in his of outfit; a tailored suit that accentuated his body well. It's not very often Aiden meets a man who wears three-piece suits. Any resemblance to the concept reminded him of fellow students who over-dress for presentations during the final week of the semester. He acknowledges the guard for a moment before his gaze shifts to Aiden, the corners of his lips curving upwards slightly in mild interest.

"You must be Aiden Pearce." His voice is deep, inviting.

"What gave it away?" Aiden asks in substitute for a greeting. He notes the carefully styled hair of the doctor; already understands the doctor carries himself in such a high-esteem.

"Please, right this way." The man moves aside and Aiden takes this as ample instruction to move along ahead without the guard who remained behind, outside the door.

There is silence after the click of the front door closes. Although the silence only lasts briefly, Aiden soaks up the stillness of the office. There was no welcoming party to guide him into a room, suggest him to sit and remind him that this is a safe space for him to express himself without judgement. Instead, something strange happens as the realization of the situation  _really_  registers into his psyche. It starts off as a quiet chuckle to himself before evolving into knee-jerking  _laughter_. He was seriously visiting a psychiatrist god knows where.

Aiden doesn't know how long he's laughing for, but he does make an effort to cover his mouth in order to stifle the madness. At this rate, he was surely going to end up in a white jacket-- Not the best performance for the first day with an intellectual meant to psychoanalyze you.

"Aiden," There was that voice again, coming from behind him. Aiden turns to find the doctor comfortably situated in a chair with a pen and leather-covered notebook on his lap. "I'm Dr. Levi Sauvage. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Shame it's not under better circumstances."

The richness of his voice affects Aiden quite strangely; causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand. Unable to quite distinguish whether he feels un-welcomed or appreciates the level of professionalism, he's  _almost_  tempted to meet his eyes. He instead keeps his gaze focused on well-polished shoes and the wrinkle-free slacks.

Wealth never really intimidated him. He wasn't that well off, but he was not poor either. The notion of wealth simply fascinated him in the difference of perception and the excessive usage of ten-dollar scrabble words.

"Director Fury advised me to share a message with you." He says, "In the event that you refuse to make any efforts in our sessions, I've been instructed to communicate this to him directly. As much as I'd disagree in rushing the process, I'd like to believe that he's eager to know you're of sound mind."

Aiden nods slowly before curling his lips into his mouth to wet them, "I'm sure he is." Unconvinced. "Is the strict screening procedure actually necessary?" Aiden sighs, pressing his hand over his forehead.

"Certainly. As a means of comparison, it's required for FBI agents who work in the field. A person in your field comes into contact with violence frequently more than most civilians. It's understandable that Director Fury requires an assurance of the state of your mental stability. Prolonged exposure to violence can be exceptionally traumatic. Especially when one cannot efficiently process these events."

"Are most of your patients SHIELD agents?"

"I was personally approached by Maria Hill For your specific case. Otherwise, a good amount of my patients are referred from other doctors or... concerned family members. My patient demographics rarely entail those who willingly admit themselves."

"That sounds more like you have a kink for sociopaths and psychopaths."

It's as though Dr. Sauvage found some amusement in that allegation because now he graciously tips his head forward and asks, "Do you consider yourself either one?"

"I doubt either one would want to answer you or even would answer truthfully."

"Quite likely."

The silence returns but more comfortably. Aiden still has yet to properly meet the eyes of his psychiatrist, but it's certainly something he feels could wait. He directs himself to the couch and lays down on it, however his body is purposely not stretched out. Aiden wasn't planning to get comfortable, it's enough to just give generic answers and quickly get the screening procedure out of the way.

"So Aiden, how are you  _feeling_?"

Aiden always draws a blank at that question no matter who asks it.

 

-

 

During one of their sparring sessions, Aiden might've felt equally as impressed as Bucky. It's one thing to repeatedly dodge certain fight patterns but once he's developing a sense of comfort in doing so, he's adding a few unsuspecting jabs and kicks for good measure.

"Well, mit me, kiddo, you're keeping me on my toes."

"I try." He shrugs, smug smile in view. 

"I'm fucking a hundred and-somethin' years old and you don't think to cut me some slack?" Bucky feigns innocence, patting the sweat off his face with a towel.

"Certainly not with a body like that." Aiden doesn't immediately catch the thought before it leaves his mouth. But once he does, he clears his throat and quickly adds, "No can do, sir." Damn mouth filter.

"I think you're spendin' too much time with Stark." He easily comments, hanging his towel over his neck.

Surprisingly for a guy who has lived a century long, he didn't seem disgusted by Aiden even (albeit  _unintentionally_ ) trying to flirt. Maybe he was spending too much time hovering over Tony Stark every other weekend, after all. The man's attempt to deflect with flirtatious overtures at the smallest indication of an upcoming serious topic seems like a skill hes cultivated for his persona. Which was something Aiden's sure he'd start subconsciously mimicking. When Aiden picks up his head from between his legs, it's to watch the back of his mentor start to saunter towards the locker room. An hour of sparring surprisingly went by quick these days.

"By the way, you sure we don't have to worry about the super saying anything?"

Earlier that week, they hadn't immediately caught sight of their superintendent maneuvering everyone's trash from the alleyway into the edge of the sidewalk. The Quinjet drops them on the roof of the property before they make to using the fire escape to climb in through their kitchen window. But Aiden sees the older gentleman gawking at them in awe just several floors below and barely restrains himself from waving. Aiden's not completely sure what's the protocol for hosting meta-humans under the same roof as civilians, but it sounds like an eviction notice waiting to happen.

Bucky comes to a stop just as he reaches the doorway to the locker room, turning to look at Aiden with a smile that bordered on devious. "Nothin' to worry about. Super'll keep his trap shut if he doesn't want his wife knowing that Beth in 3C's pipes haven't really been leaking for the past couple weeks."

That clamps Aiden's mouth shut as the wheels in his head begin to click in understanding. His teeth pull over his bottom lip just barely managing to hold the laughs that threatened to spill.

"I wouldn't have guessed you came in layers."

"It's part of my charm." Bucky says, deviousness taking on something slightly darker. Aiden simply blinks, taking a moment to absorb this information. Aiden never quite gets to dissecting his brain scramble when a nudge from beside him startles him out of his thoughts.

Bucky is sitting beside him now, amusement clear on his face. "You clearly spent too much time on the mats. C'mon, I'll buy you some aspirin on the way to the diner. I'm cravin' breakfast."

"It's almost 10pm." Aiden raises a brow.

"Breakfast for dinner. Don't tell Steve, he'll give me  _the face_ —you know what face I'm talkin' about." Aiden does. "I'll get an ear-full of it." 

Bucky got the breakfast special as promised; pancakes, eggs, sausage and ham with a side of fries, Aiden opted for a cheeseburger with curly fries and a coke, settling on keeping his meals in conjunction to the time of day. The easy thing about Bucky Barnes is that he's eager to fill the silence. As they waited for the food, he comfortably shares the inner quirks to his superhero team mates. According to Barnes, Clint Barton had a habit of hiding in vents and the Hulk was around often enough that Jarvis had the contractors on speed-dial, to name a few.

Aiden understands to some degree this is all in efforts to establish some basis of camaraderie, he does. He's chewed through half of his burger and finished his fries about ten minutes ago. He sets his gaze to Bucky's plate and notices the man has yet to touch his fries.

"Do you want your fries?" Aiden's already reaching for one that's hanging off his plate before the plate is pulled out of his reach.

"Yes." Bucky doesn't even bother lifting his gaze from his phone.

"You haven't touched them since we've got our food." Aiden didn't like how they were beginning to appear soggy. Soggy fries were nearly inedible and one of the very few tragedies of the universe.

"There's more to you than just a file, Aiden. Not askin' for a biography, something would be appreciated, though. We'd like to get to know who  _you_ are. " 

Aiden never feels like he should talk about himself; automatically having assumed their relationship was to be strictly professional. it's easier for him to maintain a level-head when there were clear lines that allowed him to properly compartmentalize logic from emotions.

More than anything else, he'd never thought Bucky would even be interested. He's not used to sincere curiosity being openly directed towards him when he spends his time working on being unnoticed and forgettable; a gray man.

Aiden easily deflates, crossing his arms over the table and putting his head down with a sigh.  _Probably should lay off the extra carbs_ , he tries to reason with himself. When he lifts up his face less than a minute later, Bucky's plate has been pushed close to his arms, the man in question scrolling through content on his phone distractedly. When Aiden reaches and takes a fry, he doesn't spare him his attention but Aiden knows he's well aware that he's one fry-less than before.

Once he tosses it in his mouth, Aiden thinks he should at least give something to appease his mentor. When he reaches for another fry he relents, "I was studying Law in college... before I found myself here, uh—in this situation. Law was my mom's idea." But it's when he gives an inch, it made it significantly easier to give a mile.

"Was born and raised in the city, but I chose to go to a state college to get away from the folks. Fraternities and clubs weren't my thing, I tried." He laughs, but it's absent of any real humor. "Could never really mingle with other people. I didn't know what I was doing in college, never thought that far into the future. But I thought I should've at least gave my mom something to brag to her friends about." When he chances a glance at Bucky, he almost flinches by the undivided attention.

"Are my fries enough or should we order another portion?"

"More than enough to go with half a burger."

Aiden has a hard time breaking their leveled gaze. Admittedly, he's relieved when Bucky doesn't press him for more than what he gives him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden is chasing after the life he thought he had and Bucky begins to realize that he might have his hands full with more than what he originally signed up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually one of the few chapters in the story that will be more than 4000 words-- I mostly blame it on my last minute decision to add/delete parts of the original chapter content. To be honest, it was coming off a bit harem-y and it began rubbing me the wrong way haha.
> 
> For this chapter specifically, there is drug-use (marijuana). I didn't think to add this to the tags since juana's only present/mentioned in very few chapters.

The apartment is empty and the air is still, Bucky Barnes isn't in sight during the late hours of the morning. Aiden isn't sure what to make of the lack of appearance until he finds a note stuck onto the refridgerator door.

' _Called out. Groceries should last the rest the week._ '

Groceries according to Barnes translated to  the splurge of frozen pizza, burger and tacquitos boxes in the freezer. Aiden almost wants to tattle to Steve about these living conditions that so remind him of a college dorm. Yet, he doesn't because for the rest of the week, he has full reign of the house and he's technically released from whatever form of baby-sitting Bucky was responsible for.

When he catches a train to New York City and is wandering Grand Central by that same evening, he's convinced that Bucky hadn't put a Shield guard on him. For whatever reason, trusted he wouldn't need to. They would've confronted him first step off the property.

Aiden's never knew Gotham like hes known New York City. He's uncharacteristically sentimental as of late; half-heartedly chasing after familiarities. The low rumbling and loud shrieking of the trains above ground grinding against the aged tracks gave a feeling of deja vu, but didn't trigger any significant revelations only a hint of annoyance when it clashed with his music.

"Rough day?"

At the back of his mind, he can hear familiar voices reprimand him for his deplorable fixation on Jaegermeisters as he stares at the one sitting in front of him.

It's a big lie to believe for one second that drinking the rest of the night would help him recall the itch at the back of his mind. Alcohol helps a person to forget, not remember. Yet tonight he preferred a stiff bar stool instead of the cozy couch in their Gotham apartment.

"On the contrary, I feel more free than I have in a while."

"Yeah? Finally cut off ties with a partner?"

Aiden bristles. He's been trying to find a reason to throw back his shot by skimming his consciousness for an angry memory that would trigger the action. Fifteen minutes in and the fellow customer a few seats down from him assuming he'd saddle up at a bar, chug down a bottle of alcohol because of someone else may have done the trick for him. A treacherous voice at the back of his mind bothers to remind him ' _not the first time you have_ ' and there goes the alcohol.

"That bad huh."

Aiden lets him think so, he's much too busy reaquainting his taste buds with the cooled spiced alcohol leaving an after taste in his mouth that reminded him of  _Nyquill_. He resists a shudder.

"M' glass's empty." He sighs, signaling the bartender for another.

"I'd say it depends on how you're looking at it."

"I'm looking at it with my fucking eyes and it's  _empty_."

Some part of himself knows time has passed by the second shot, there's lesser patrons sitting at the bar now that he  _really_  spares a glance. His face scrunches in confusion when the man beside him now was close enough to be touching elbows and knees.

"Realized we never exchanged names," Aiden also realizes he never took a good look at his evening neighbor. "On most days, they call me Johnny."

Can't help but wonder if the alcohol distorts his preference but the man looked not much older than twenty-six, short dirty-blonde hair and chiseled facial features--in high school, he's pretty sure girls would describe this guy as 'drop dead gorgeous'. Aiden doesn't  _not_  like what he sees. He tries not to stare, distracts himself by watching the bartender pour more dark liquid into his cup. The way his eyes often flicker between his face and the glass tell Aiden that he's ready to cut him off.

"Aiden." His mouth speaks without his permission, curse the damn thing.

"Well, Aiden," Johnny's voice pulls his attention on him. Under the warm-toned lights above the bar, they appear darker and intense. "Want to head to a better place? This place is depressing."

"Yet here you are."

"Pre-gaming doesn't require a great pub." Johnny reasons, leaning in closer. "Besides, I promised my sister she wont have to worry about bailing me out of the local precinct anymore."

A rational human-being would avoid leaving a bar intoxicated with a stranger without at least letting someone know. Leaving with  _anyone_  you meet at a bar is like playing the lottery. Aiden may be reckless but he's definitely not stupid. The very least he does is turn on the tracker on his Stark phone just after he closes his tab.

"Fair enough. I have nowhere to go."

Normally, Aiden's relationship with brick walls took on a more violent manner; either by being shoved or thrown against one with the intent to knock him unconscious, kill him or both. The contrast between the warmth that's being pressed against him and the cold surface against his back has him cling uncharacteristically to Johnny's neck. His hands must be cold against the warm skin, but Johnny doesn't comment on it just pulls Aiden's body closer by his hips.

He's smiling widely, teeth lightly pulling on Aiden's bottom lip as he leans away from the kiss. "We both seem to like how the other kisses."

Aiden hums in agreement, head tilted back against the wall as he stared up at Johnny's face through his eyelashes. "Great deduction, Sherlock."

It's been bugging Aiden how familiar Johnny seemed. Like a word on the tip of your tongue that you can't think of in the moment you want to use it. It'll probably come to him eventually.

"Do you have a soul mate?" Johnny asks through a sharp exhale.

"I don't fucking know dude." Breathless. What kind of question was that to ask a guy you met at a bar?

"Don't think I do either." His tone dampening the wistful smile he's been trending most of the night. There was probably a tragic backstory to it, one that Aiden didn't deserve to inquire about unless he planned on this becoming more.

He doesn't.

 

-

 

Aiden returns to Gotham during the very early hours of Sunday morning. He should count himself lucky he didn't run into trouble on the walk back from the subway. Too many homeless people and hoodlums hanged around those parts; preying on the tired and unexpected. The sun won't rise for another couple of hours but he feels high as a kite and finds contentment in the emptiness of the streets. Bucky was due back Monday and this gave him the rest of Sunday to sleep off the high and carry on with business as usual.

Toeing off his sneakers, he shuffles into the dark kitchen carrying the pair in hand. Saying he was simply hungry was a huge understatement. Despite his previous distaste for frozen food, it sounded absolutely heavenly right now. When he pulls open the freezer door, he squints at the brightness of the light even scrunching his eyes closed with a hiss and a quiet ' _damn it_ '.

Then he realizes the kitchen light also was on and Aiden doesn't remember flipping its switch. He squints up at the kitchen light before he turns to chance a glance to the switch, his eyes brushing over the appearance of a disgruntled Bucky Barnes.

"Where were you?" He asks, voice firm and arms crossed. Aiden recognizes that posture. Vaguely recalls instances where Steve used the same stance on Tony when the billionaire has cooped himself in his workshop for days on end.

"Weren't you supposed to be back tomorrow or did I miscalculate what day it was?" Aiden unceremoniously drops his sneakers on the floor to stifle his laughter. God, why was this funny? A lot of things lately were strangely laughable. Maybe it's funny because he got caught.

"Mission went smoothly. Got back this morning instead." He answers, curtly. "Where were you?"

"Manhattan, mostly Brooklyn." He admits. Laughter fading into quiet chuckles. "Totally different vibe from what I was expecting. Gentrification and shit, 'amiright? Fucking crazy."

Bucky clears his throat, "Were you here at  _all_  while I was gone?"

"Nah."

Aiden props his elbow inside the freezer, tilts his head enough to feel the cool air weave through the roots of his scalp. Bucky probably wouldn't let him sleep inside the freezer, even if he asked with a 'pretty please'.

"Leave a message next time. If SHIELD catches wind that you're going on adventures god-knows-where..." Bucky's voice trails off into an exhausted sigh, defeated.

Aiden tilts his head at that, approaches Bucky with a graceful sway that lets him feel like he's floating (much thanks to the cannabis in his system clouding his perception of his very fine motor skills).

"You're not my parent, James." He says, "If worse comes to worst, I turned on my phone tracker."

Smiling smugly up at the super soldier, he feels him scrutinizing him. Bucky doesn't like being called by his first name, Steve once mentioned this very fact to him in the beginning. Using it during their disagreements however, Aiden revels in the reaction of the older male. A very slight twitch to his eye and Aiden feels like he has the upper hand for once.

"Jesus Christ Aiden, are you fucking high?"

"Am I what?" He squints.

" _High_." Bucky repeats.

"Hey." Aiden raises his hand in greeting, sheepish grin accompanying the gesture.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, the corner of his lips twitching.

"So, what exactly made you disappear off back to New York?"

"Went on a journey." He begins, eyes drifting down to Bucky's exposed metal arm. "I was gonna' try and find my friends and my mom. But then I stopped just after I got off the N at Queensboro. 'Cause  _the hell_  was I thinking? I just needed someone to touch-base with who wasn't a hot-shot PhD or a _superhero_."

The absence of closure was what made this a prolonged issue in the very depths of Aiden's mind. Like being refused a release when his pants feel tight enough to give blue balls, if you will. Nick Fury has consistently ignored his inquiries and often levels Aiden with an unforgiving expression that made the boy reluctantly surrender. Alcohol and the occasional marijuana indulgence always had a habit of bringing out the bottled emotions.

The metal plates feel cool under his finger tips, some vibrate ever so slightly when he applies minimal pressure to their surface. It's distracting and calming, he's waiting in anticipation for the older man to shift away from his prodding fingers or do something that would communicate his discomfort. Bucky doesn't simply tell one to 'fuck off' unless they're a certain billionaire playboy philanthropist.

Problem was, nothing of that sort happened.

"Bars aren't the place to make friends, but anyone could'a told me that. Probably would've had better luck on  _Tinder_  or wait-- the gay one's  _Grindr_ , right?" Aiden carries on flatly.

"You went drinking."

"Reliving old habits." He shrugs and pulls his hand back to his side. "Just wanted to connect to someone—anyone."

The freezer door was still ajar when Aiden turns back and reaches for the pizza in it. He's humming a song that he can't quite place. Johnny could've been humming it or it could've been something playing at the various bars they've visited on their adventure.

"Aiden, you know you  _can_  talk about these things."

Just as he presses 'start' on the microwave, Aiden hesitates before turning his attention to the man behind him, Aiden notices whatever was on his face earlier dissipated into something unreadable. He finds it difficult to look away from something so close to defeat. His once vibrant greys now dulled slightly, his frown lines more prominent.

"Go get some sleep." 

"M'not tired."

When the microwave whines in an annoying string of beeps with the promise of Aiden's pizza ready to eat, it breaks whatever trance the younger had been in.

"Your pizza's ready."

"Yeah." Aiden leans out of his personal space, moving to retrieve his food from the microwave.

Bucky doesn't move an inch from where he stood. Aiden on the other hand, doesn't regard him at all and barely manages a coherent 'good night' as he passes him to his room. In his room, he sets the plate down on his bed and lays down beside it staring hard at the ceiling with some trepidation for another half hour until he remembers the cold pizza and reluctantly eats a few pieces of crust.

 

-

 

Indistinct conversations and faint echoes of screams, Aiden experiences it behind his eyelids from time to time. Part of the time, he feels agitated upon opening his eyes like coming out of a nightmare while other times, it's a distant memory he's forced to bear witness to. The screams are often drowned by hushed voices and eventually flush into a sanguine questioning " _See_ ". Aiden doesn't see and can never quite understand the meaning behind the word after he wakes.

This time when he hears the voices, they're not loud or surrounding him. This time, they are distorted and tamed with no accompanying screams. There was something different happening, something had fundamentally changed then he opens his eyes to a foreign darkness.

"Who are  _you_  supposed to be?"

Aiden startles at the unexpected voice and slowly turns towards its source. He blinks once, twice, confused to find himself — _standing_ —in what appears to be something resembling an office but more makeshift in the piles of boxes making desks, stack of screens, pin-ups on the brick walls. Didn't he get back to the apartment? His teeth pull over his bottom lip because he's going to be in some deep shit if he's not somehow back in Gotham.  _Jesus Christ, Aiden._

Just several feet across from him, an unfamiliar man stood out of a chair turning around to face him. The bright screens behind him illuminates the shape and edges of his outline, Aiden can barely make out a face through the shadows while squinting from the distance.

However, the way the fitted jeans and red shirt clung to his body like a second skin gave Aiden's eyes something to admire (and surely didn't leave much to the imagination). There was something to be said about his recent string of sexual fantasies with any remotely handsome guy his mind throws at him. He's pretty sure there's a millennial in the distance screeching  _Thirsty_  in response to this.

The vivid quality to the dream was strange. Aiden's dreams were rarely lucid ones and most often than not, he can't recall his dreams once waking up (aside from a few questionable highlights). There was something that extended further out of the realms of imagination with this dream. Aiden starts to feel uneasiness. Though, this doesn't mean that the uneasiness stops him from approaching the man and placing his hand just over his chest. It's unsettling just how real the fabric—the tight sculpt of the man's chest felt under his finger tips, he feels his hand rise and fall with his chest. It's distracting.

"God, you're fucking  _hot_."

Aiden is downright impressed with his imagination—if this was what they called a lucid dream, he has to learn how to do this more often. Trailing his hand up to lightly caress and cup high cheek-bones, he meets icey blues and his breath catches in his throat.

"Apparently my subconscious forgot to tell me something important if I'm dreaming of a dude touching me and shit." The man sighs, rubbing the crook of his neck in what seemed to be tired resignation. However, his eyes never leave Aiden's and just that was undeniably  _hot_.

The man was taller than him, just by a few inches. When he stepped even closer, leaned into him, a distinct smell interrupts his senses. Gunpowder and cheap aftershave traveled up his nostrils and the man remained unmoved, hand stilled on the back of his neck. There was a tension growing in the air and Aiden can't recognize the stranger. His gut starts to clench and release because in that moment, a possibility arises. He closes his eyes and there was an undeniable lump forming in his throat, a heaviness weighing on his form. Aiden quickly pulls his hand back as if he'd been burnt and furrows his brows down at his palm.

"This is just a dream." Aiden murmurs, a small effort to convince himself. Rather than believing it has something to do with possibly having a  _soulmate_  of all things. This was one of the few things he'd accept being wrong about.

"Weird one."

"I'm dreaming." He doesn't know what to say or if he should say anything. Fingers nervously tapping against the desk surface, the marijuana was creating this dream; it created the obnoxiously good-looking guy and the setting.

"Yeah, you already said that." Extra emphasis on the 'obnoxious'-part.

Aiden doesn't know what he's doing here. Aiden glares at the open space beside him. This dream of his must be mocking him because the wet-dreams Aiden does get are rarely ever remembered, the only evidence of their passing being a stiff gift in his pants the morning of.

Aiden studies the man warily, "So what? Are you going to make me work for it or something?"

"Is that your way of asking me on a date? Because that would be a 'no'." The man sits on the edge of a wooden table, facing Aiden with legs spread suggestively. 

"I'm getting mixed signals here."

"Oh trust me pal, I'm sure we're not playing for the same team." 

With the way the man was staring at him, Aiden soon added 'unsettled' to the amalgamation of charged feelings coursing through him. Probably had to have been the weed in his system. He's several joints away from calling himself a pot-head and the craving isn't exactly going away.

"Well, this quickly turned into a nightmare." Aiden wipes a hand over his face, he doesn't spare the guy another look when he's leaving the room through a nearby doorway. He doesn't know where it leads to, in parts he was hoping it'd lead him to a better dream. But everything around him fades shrouding him into darkness, when he reaches through it Aiden doesn't grasp anything. Aiden's not afraid of the dark, but the fear of the unknown is very much present. The contents of his stomach jump as he's suddenly falling through the darkness.

His body instantly jerks awake, his eyes snap open to a popcorn ceiling.

He can't quite discern whether it was a dream or nightmare. Swallowing and reining into his memory of the experience, Aiden feels like something has changed. Something subtle. Maybe he's just overthinking it.

 

-

 

They attend their monthly team-bonding event which Tony unsurprisingly (much to Steve's repeated dismay) turned into a drinking competition. Bucky managing to get roped into the stupidity was to be expected and Aiden wouldn't have minded if he wasn't the one having to lug the guy's weight back to Gotham.

The event doesn't progress as quietly as he would've preferred. Thor has once again introduced his extremely potent Asgardian elixir that even made Steve tipsy by his forth sip and  _that's_  the thing, Steve shouldn't be able to feel intoxicated. From his peripherals, Aiden takes note of Tony who watches him from over his bottle of sparkling water and Clint wearing a shit-eating grin for an unfathomable reason beside him. Normally, these two things together were not good signs.

"So, are the rumors true, Pearce?"

Having a bottle of wine for himself, he deliberately lifts the glass to his nose and inhales the aroma. It's pretentious and Tony rolling his eyes in response to his performance, confirms this. Aiden's living for the small moments of satisfaction those gave him lately.

"Have to be more specific than that, Clint." He really didn't have to, Aiden just wanted to buy himself some time to try and strategize an expert retreat away from this conversation.

"Did you fall for the Johnny Storm-charm?"

"Don't call that guy charming. He's more of a glorified frat-guy that can boil ramen in his hand at will." Tony grimaces.

"Sue sure has her hands full." Banner sips his water.

Aiden looks down at the scarlet liquid in his glass just before exhaling a sigh, realizing that this conversation topic would follow him elsewhere even if he got away from it tonight. "Guy's a smooth talker."

Clint and Tony momentarily meets eyes before immediately erupting in a series of cheers, Bucky who sat adjacent to Aiden gets a lopsided grin before it's straightening out and he's reaching for his wallet.

"There goes my fifty." He smiles, but it comes out dull.

Just because it's 2018, Aiden isn't short of expecting some judgmental looks. He stiffs his bottom lip, looks through the faces of the men around him, but none of them outwardly comment on it otherwise too wrapped up in their own conversations of pop-culture debates and Aiden visibly deflates upon realizing he has nowhere to direct the tension in his body.

When he finishes his glass, he sneaks off to the bathroom. 

"Aiden."

Aiden looks between Bucky and the bathroom, puzzled. "Waiting for the bathroom?"

"No, I just wanted to talk."

"Didn't know you enjoyed the smell of urinal cake. Couldn't wait?" Aiden can feel the ensuing discussion of his sexuality slowly starting to emerge. Experiencing the third-degree with someone other than his mother makes him steel himself. He's heard it all before; the concern, uncertainty, and the disappointment.

"Aiden, it's  _fine_ \--" Bucky's voice nearly raises, surprising Aiden before it's forcibly falling. "It doesn't matter to us who you're into. You're allowed to  _be yourself_  with us. It probably wasn't the coming out-story you were hopin' for but this doesn't change anything between all of us. We're  _still_  a team."

Bucky's eyes shift to the side for a split second before tentatively returning to resume eye contact. "Alright?"

"Okay... Thanks."

Something flickers over his face as he says, "Don't mention it."

Usually, they'd settle for sleeping over at the tower, however, the next day was a mission briefing. Which does little to explain why he couldn't leave his mentor at the tower and let the man return on his own. At least then  _Steve_  would have this responsibility.

With super-strength and all, he'd think the guy wouldn't mind. Otherwise, he's not quite sure why  _he_  adopted the 230 lb chore. Dumping the man into the car and having to drive back and haul nearly double his weight up four flights of stairs has Aiden thinking he should've had more to drink. He doesn't know why he didn't when Stark was naturally footing the bill.

Weeks have passed since his field-trip around New York occurred. The next time he sees bright eyes is nearly a month later. Up until then, Aiden was convinced that in conjunction with the drug, his subconscious decided to project one of his many desires: dude with a sculpted physique he appreciated and an edge that screamed bad boy tendencies. He holds back a grimace, realizes that his interests align so much closer to that of a teenage girl.

Aiden  _seriously_ needs to re-evaluate his priorities.

He's painstakingly slow to piece together what it meant when he awakens to bright eyes leaning against an all-too familiar dresser with arms crossed facing the foot of the bed. His breath catches for a moment, he's expecting to see Barnes standing in his doorway—slightly disoriented and hungover. Either glaring the intruder down or armed with the handgun Aiden knows he keeps under his bed. Aiden dares to compare his mentor's hyper-awareness to that of what Spider-man calls his 'spidey-senses' (because Aiden doesn't know for sure if he believes in it or not).

 _That_  would be a very awkward situation to explain (if he could, that is). But it's only them, the bedroom super soldier-free when he steals a glance to the closed door.

Aiden really needs to get used to whoever this guy is since it seems that he won't necessarily go away. He's not one for dream interpretations but understanding what real-life event or buried emotions this guy symbolizes may make it easier to not see him again.

"Looking comfy there. Didn't mean to wake you."

Groaning softly, Aiden drops back onto the mattress, taking the extra pillow to his side and pulling it over his face.

"This can't be a coincidence." The man says. Aiden resentfully agrees with an answering grunt.

It shouldn't be possible to feel the ensuing hangover headaches start to take affect even while dreaming. He only had a couple glasses of wine, honestly Aiden believed he was in the works of improving his alcohol tolerance. He lifts the pillow off his face just enough to say, "Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something."

When he peeks at bright eyes from underneath the pillow, he finds the man studying him with the same concentration a doctor may have when discovering an anomaly in a x-ray scan. As he sits up, he props his chin onto his palm, elbow against his thigh.

"What?"

"Are you always  _this_  cryptic?" The man questions, brows drawing closer as his arms cross his chest. Aiden finds it hard to ignore the bulge of muscle in the movement.

"Usually depends on what day of the week it is." Aiden quips.

"As ridiculous as it is that you haven't caught it yet—I'm getting the feeling that we're apparently...  _that_."

Aiden tilts his head, the frown on his face deepening. "That?"

The man sighs dramatically and makes a show of pointing between the two of them. "That  _that—_ Soulmates."

The silence between them stretches. Aiden gives a choked laugh; wants to laugh at the expression on his face. He  _needs_  to laugh, has to turn this whole realization into a joke because accepting it meant it was real. Accepting that meant that he was somehow acclimating to this universe and that was a very  _dangerous_  realization. His very existence was the proof of an alternate universe and losing what tied him to it may threaten the likelihood of his return.

Aiden  _vaguely_  knew how the concept of dream-sharing worked. In all honesty, he assumed it to be a load of crap. The kind of voluntary distortion a person lets themselves believe since it gets them through the day or because it gave them some sort of purpose to continue hoping for the light at the end of the tunnel. The information seemed invaluable because he wasn't  _supposed_  to experience the phenomenon.

Yet here he was— _experiencing_. Dr. Banner will surely get an earful of this from him at some point.

He wonders if precautionary measures to avoid his current sleep patterns would decrease the likelihood of these dream meet-ups. But this meant wandering the common areas at the same time as Steve Rogers or alerting Barnes. At 2am, Avenger's tower was still buzzing with energy unlike the lifeless streets of Manhattan below. Aiden cant help but wince at the disapproving stare he notices Steve direct at him when he passes the communal gym. Noticeably speed-walking when the leader tries calling him over.

"Found something funny?" Icey blues going sharp at its edges, he runs a hand through his hair.

"No, no. It's not very funny." Reluctantly returning his full attention to the man he shows his teeth, but not exactly enthusiastically. "If it helps, I was convinced I didn't have to worry about ever meeting. Thought you were just a guest star in my wet dreams--I don't know."

"That doesn't make any sen--" He stops mid-sentence drawing in a breath as he re-evaluates Aiden's word choice.

" _Problem?_ " Aiden interrupts, his gaze hardening. The man glowers at him in response but doesn't finish. Aiden shifts his attention elsewhere.

Apparently 'elsewhere' meant eye-raping the guy's body  _again_  because Aiden is always up for salivating over things he shouldn't have. The muscles —he has quite painfully kept himself from drooling over—and the history of scars that neatly littered his exposed forearms made quite the statement. He starts to wonder where they came from but is quick to suffocate the thought before giving it any more time to breathe curiosity. Acclimating was  _not_  a good sign, he reminds himself. He has to hand it to the guy for not getting outwardly touchy about Aiden checking him out, it wasn't like Aiden was trying to hide it either.

Aiden watches as he combs his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face in efforts to settle the frustration radiating off his body. Bright eyes is purposely not looking at him, instead staring at the floor with the intensity that could make a hole appear.

"God, just—Where the hell have you  _been_?" That's when Aiden's attention rises, meeting the vulnerability behind icey blues which knocks the living daylights out of him. He can feel the meaning behind those words resonate in his very being,  _I've been waiting so long_. He can hear the hurt underneath too raw. "This doesn't make sense. But who am I kidding? Nothing ever did."

And shit, that sense of longing didn't belong to  _him_. It was this man's feelings—seeping into him and he's absorbing it like a sponge. For the first time in a while, Aiden's genuinely afraid of the doors this would open; the amount of access this man would have to him.

He wasn't ready for this, whatever this was supposed to be.

He stiffens as soon as he notices the man's eyes widen. Aiden allowed his fear into the bond, he realizes, and opens his mouth to say something like  _don't say it_ or  _please forget it_ but his voice is caught in his throat. Aiden quickly snaps his mouth closed, turning his head to look aside. Was that shame he felt?

"I see." Bright eyes says under his breath, his eyes returning to the floor distracted in thought. Aiden doesn't like how he sounded absolutely hollow, almost disappointed.

"Listen," With difficulty, Aiden tries to explain but the words he's suppose to say trail into silence. He doesn't know what he wants to say or how he should say it. Aiden just wants him to not wear that face because of him. Which was somewhat out of character and that makes him irritated. Irritated that so early on the bond already had an influence over him. Aiden didn't know the guy, it shouldn't bother him as much as it does.

 

 

Jason doesn't dare move, because he knows if he does, he'll want to direct years of pent up anger somewhere.

With the bond between him and his soulmate now beginning to develop, they're more exposed to each other's feelings. Jason can feel the mixture of confusion, fear and  _dread_? The absolute opposite of what he initially felt. After a long few seconds the boy seems to find his bearings and clears his throat, the intensity of his emotions becoming controlled and not overwhelming Jason's own as much.

"We shouldn't let this influence our decisions." His soulmate says. "We don't need to listen to the bond because we've been  _fine_. We don't need the bond to live our lives." And its in the calm tone and the patience he takes to speak that it seemed to Jason he was stating an irreversible truth. He begins to feel the familiar anger and defensiveness that always came with his memories of being Batman's sidekick flare to life because this was his soulmate stealing his choice from him the same way Bruce tried to.

"Good fucking luck with that" He bites out.

"Oh?" His soulmate doesn't break their leveled gaze and sneers, "You're into  _guys_?"

" _No_." It's not a lie despite how petulant it sounded coming out of his mouth, Jason hasn't been romantically involved with another guy and it isn't a suggestion that normally creeps into his mind. "Soulmates don't  _need_  to date. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least do the bare minimum to satisfy this shit." He tries to reason.

"What, ignoring this whole thing isn't enough?" The nonchalance in his tone reminds Jason that his rage has yet to be properly released. After all, there was something about his soulmate that unnerves him. What made the kid so unlucky to be paired up with  _him_  of all people?

"Far from it."

"Are you disgusted?" The 'with me' that's implied was silent, as silent as the 'g' in 'sign' or even 'lasagna'.

"I don't know what I am right now." Jason grumbles, there's no missing that he's still bewildered by the randomness of the situation.

"Alright, so we'll just roll with this until it stops happening."

Jason jaw tightens. "The hell do you mean?  _This_  doesn't stop." He asks, gesturing between the two of them. Jason thinks about how much he used to want this. He threaded cautiously when the conversations of soulmates risen up.

"Think about it, if we don't bother to actually indulge this it would make sense that it would eventually go away by itself, right?" Jason doesn't think that's how this worked.

"And what are we suppose to do until that happens, Einstein?"

When his eyes between a mess of stray chocolate brown bangs manages to drag their gaze back up to his face, Jason wants to yell because somehow he already  _knows_  what the dogged determination on this stranger's face translated to.

"Nothing."  _Stubbornness_. Which was absolutely fantastic because he was just as stubborn.

They'd make a fearsome pair if they both didn't bite each other's heads off.

Jason doesn't count that as an answer and finally moves about the room, makes himself do something that's not focusing all of his attention on this conversation. A scarce amount of furniture and belongings were enough to help me understand it was a room his soulmate either less frequented or just moved into. Then again, Jason has a hard time knowing how closely do the significant spaces their minds project during these dreams actually resemble its reality.

"We're going to see each other in these dreams. What about  _that_?"

"Irrelevant." He dismisses the question with a brief wave of his hand despite it being  _quite relevant_. Jason overhears shifting from the bed and the boy is on his feet when he looks over his shoulder. "Just think of me as your dream-roommate. We see each other every now and then, greet each other, establish a facade of care for one another's day and move on with the rest of our day."

If Jason passed a guy like him on the streets of Gotham, he's pretty convinced he's already got him pegged. Sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes and short ruffled chest-nut hair. There's a lot of fucking pretty boys like him around Gotham but most often than not, they have their own hot-spots. The shady areas that openly traded services for some cash. He's pretty sure he's the type that's simple but complicated in that suburban teenage angst kind of way—parents and him didn't see eye-to-eye, entitled, seemingly reckless and uncaring but simply because he gave way too many fucks about everything.

He looks like a city kid but not a  _Gotham_  city kid. Definitely more LA—somewhere more liberal, New York? Not someone constantly exposed to the lowest of the low scum and the terrible weather that made Gotham.

That's the real kicker; when you've thrived from the ground up and made something of yourself in a place like Gotham, no other place--no matter how better would compare to the sort of comfort and confidence that has cultivated himself into the hardened and war-heavy man he's become.

Despite the boy only sporting a pair of boxer briefs, he steps up to Jason in the face of his silence. He confronts him not like Jason doesn't already have a few inches on him or another 30 lbs of muscle on him. He's thrown off balance by the steady weight of hazel orbs pinning him completely still.

"You planning on trying something?" Jason asks, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head forward like every nerve in his body isn't alight with their proximity. The boy doesn't laugh, his lips don't even quirk at the jab.

"Lets just ride this out until the bond fades on its own." He says, pointedly. "If we don't end up killing each other first, that is."

"Think your stubbornness can last that long,  _tough guy_?" He asks, a dark expression crossing his face.

"I plan on ignoring this until it fades." The boy states rather amiably. Jason tastes bile in his mouth. "What about you?"

"Fine by me." He barely holds back the snarl.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of thought that having a POV change towards the end of the chapter made it messy. Even though i said I'd have a set posting schedule, just to post this ready-chapter took a month :/ I was mulling over what to do about that segment before ultimately leaving it. This chapter has really just been sitting too long as a draft.
> 
> oh well
> 
> but anyway, i clearly meshed up a few notable soulmate tropes here and decided to use each as stages towards a solid soulmate companionship( whatever that is haha). i'll probably explain this more in future chapters


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates with their own neuroses and issues simply do not immediately become soulmates.

When Jason wakes up later, he feels a drain he's not used to, a kind of exhaustion that he's not able to easily shake unlike his usual sleepless nights. Underneath it all is a mix of annoyance and surreal-ness because—he has a soulmate.

At this moment, he's unsure if it's appropriate to even claim him as one since the boy made it blatantly clear he wanted little to nothing to do with their connection. He later concludes to ignore the finer details and contemplate the actual situation. Which leads to hisaccidental slip of the news to Artemis during one of their practice sessions. Jason would like to blame it on being half-asleep. The prodding of how he'll deal with the situation was not something he was particularly prepared for.

"To be crystal clear moving forward — will you confess who you really are to your destined one?" 

The question shouldn't have been raised amidst Jason and Bizarro's sparring match (actually, Jason wouldn't call it sparring, more like a marathon of dodging every single one of Bizzaro's fists - because really, have you seen the size of the guy?).

The timing distracts Jason for all of three seconds—which was enough to get sent flying backwards through the air and into the brick wall across the room. Dropping onto his side with a groan, he's pushing himself up, Artemis doesn't look apologetic when he glances over at her. More amused than anything with the raise of her brow. 

"L-let's take a break, big guy. The room is spinning." Jason presses the corners of his eyes, feeling slightly light headed.

Bizarro actually appeared guilty when he approaches Jason. "Bizzaro sorry." He extends his large hand to Jason who takes it and pulls himself up.

"It's okay, it was my fault for getting distracted." He points an accusing glare at Artemis as the female Amazon casually follows behind Bizarro. "Don't call him my 'destined one', by the way." She picks his water bottle off the table and holds it out to him nonchalantly.

"Ah, you humans use the archaic term 'soulmate'." Pressing her hip into the nearby wall, she leans forward a bit. "Will you try to meet him in person?"

Jason situates himself against the table edge, taking a long sip from his water bottle to buy some time from giving a response. When it finally came time to give his two-cents he sighs deeply, "Nope, he doesn't want to. I don't want to by extension." Jason mutters, looking down to his lap in thought, "He already hates me off the bat and I'm not the biggest fan of the guy either. If he finds out I'm some high-profile criminal? Pretty sure I'd get more than the cold-shoulder."

"Was that the impression you received as you spoke with him?"

"He's very clearly into guys and I'm not." Jason feels the need to add. "Never crossed my mind."

"My country is of all women. To us, the courtship and concept of marriage between us is not 'gay' marriage but simply marriage." She states, "While I respect your preferences, Jason, you shouldn't allow this to judge the worth of your soulmate. There is a reason why his soul is bound to your own." 

There's something about the Amazon's newfound interest of the topic that makes her prodding affect him in the way that it now placed his own values under a microscope, waiting for commentary. Jason admits she's asking the right questions. The information she shares does not fall on deaf ears but instead lead to the awareness of uncomfortable perspectives and uncertain thoughts he wasn't willing to openly share--at least, not at this moment. 

Since his resurrection, Jason had continued his life believing that a soulmate was someone he didn't deserve; that he either didn't have or he missed to time. Reminiscing of his troubled childhood, romanticizing the idea of his soulmate, kept him going (as did with most). Otherwise, there wasn't much that kept a kid alive in a dog-eat-dog world. Growing up in a troubled area like Crime Alley didn't bear no promises to a good life.

He made it a ritual to get as much sleep as he can (as much as crime fighting permitted anyways). Jason refrained from disclosing the truth even as Alfred (with a few additional sprinkles of Bruce's acknowledging grunts) one day proceeded to educate him on the fundamentals of soulmates.

" _Everyone has a soulmate, this much is true, Master Todd. Whenever you are able to meet yours, they surely would love to meet you. And they'd be more than welcome to the manor if you one day choose to invite them_." Most of the memory is hazy, but one of the more memorable focal points was Bruce's face; brows furrowed and body rigid in desperate attempts to focus on the newspaper in front of him. He looked like he'd rather be held hostage by the Joker than involved in that conversation.

In this world, while not a substantial amount of the population were lucky enough to be born in the same lifetime as their soulmates, the ones that did had the fortune of meeting through dream-sharing. Present day science has tried deducing the likelihood of soulmate meetings based on ancestry history but it has yet to make any fruitful discoveries.

Jason was pretty convinced that he and his soulmate would've met sooner if they were both alive.

But at fifteen years old, the loneliness begins to weigh on his shoulders. We must've not been born at the same time. The thought in itself provoking the tight clench of his chest and a warm stinging sensation welling up in his eyes. Jason didn't think it was fair. He'd find it particularly more difficult to swallow the tears—specifically, during nights when Alfred retired to bed early and Bruce benched him from patrol. When things weren't going right, he only had himself and the burning anger of being misunderstood.

Before he had any chance of getting better, he died.

Few meetings in with his soulmate and he's been pushing back the thoughts, refusing to think about what it could all mean. How strange it was that they've only began to meet in the prime of his adulthood. Its been years since he's been brought back to the land of the living. It wasn't like his soulmate was born recently either. They most likely weren't that far in physical-age if he gauged his looks right.

Well, he supposes it's not everyday that people come back from dead. That event is probably somehow relevant. Although, it would be naive to conclude it entirely to that. Poking his head in soulmate research can set them both up for something unfortunate if any of his enemies caught wind of his inquiries. The last thing his enemies or the world needed to know was that the Red Hood had a soulmate; a weakness.

Jason grimaces at the thought that he somehow reminds him of Bruce's spawn. Busy maintaining all of this guarded bullshit, they both hadn't even exchanged their names. But then does it really matter if they both weren't too fond of each other?

Not that Jason has had any grand feelings for any guy. To his knowledge, he doesn't ever recall it extending outside the realms of admiration. And he quietly hates that the figure that immediately comes to mind in the wake of the word was Nightwing.

Pursing his lips, Jason cant help but latch onto previous feelings of inferiority. He doesn't consider himself the best Robin, he'd openly admit—even despite the wrath he feels for the Batman—that he was in fact the most stupid Robin. Which is why it grinds his gears when Nightwing calls him 'Little wing' on certain occasions.

At any rate, Jason can't help but mull over the foreign feelings moving through him—the effects of the bond unwilling to let him forget that he wasn't alone. And that realization should satiate most people, make them feel a little more special and motivated in their little lives. Jason, however, doesn't know what to do with it when he's survived so long without the security blanket.

"If anything, he'd probably just be a great lay. It'd make up for his shittier moments." Jason finds himself saying, not entirely sure why the words makes his throat tighten. It was only meant to sound casual and not at all not to make himself feel like shit.

Artemis disapproves and doesn't hide it in the way her lips press into a thin line. 

-

 

In the usually lavished and meticulously decorated office, today there is something distinctly different that very obviously clashes with the decor. Aiden immediately spots a wrapped box with a large smiley face sticker plastered onto its side sitting atop Levi's desk. Something's telling Aiden to fear the smiley sticker and whatever promise of happiness is hidden within the covered box.

"According to the reports, you've been receiving more mission exposure. Not only are you getting a feel for the field, you've been openly acknowledged as a valuable asset to the completion of recent missions by your mentor," he says, "Well done,Aiden."

Aiden sighs. In the beginning, this acknowledgement was something to strive for, now however, everything felt like distractions from his real feelings. Rounding up petty bank robbers and the common house burglars wasn't anything to be extremely proud of. Yet, he could never guess how Spider-man finds happiness in giving directions to Spanish old ladies who didn't know a lick of English or much of the Queens area outside of Jackson Heights.

"Don't really think that catching the common thief is worth celebrating." His eyes wander around the office as they've done many times before. "Working with an experienced partner, let alone—a team familiar with this amount of danger I just... I'm sure there's room for error, Dr. Sauvage."

Levi remains leaned back in his chair, but his head tilts just slightly as though the angle would help better analyze Aiden. "Not very fond of positive reinforcement are you?"

"It doesn't help with improvements. I don't think so at least. Maybe I just didn't receive enough of it growing up." He pauses, mouth opening and closing. Aiden doesn't recall much moments growing up in general. "It puts me off kilter. I'm never sure how to respond."

"Many adults who've been hurt by parental figures while growing up merge with their parents in their imagination." Levi says, "They continue to both nurture and punish themselves in a matter that reflects just as they were brought up."

Aiden knows this, feels that Levi has so clearly expressed his childhood in a way that makes him feel fragile. Vulnerability wasn't what he expected with Levi, no. He expected Dr. Levi Sauvage to be a _quack_ that gave him happy pills and sent him on his way. A part of him would've preferred that method of rehabilitation.

"And what were your parents like, Dr. Sauvage?" Aiden slowly returns his attention to the man opposite to him.

"I have very little memories of my parents. They passed away while I was young. Soon after, I found myself in a foster home and eventually adopted by the age of 14 years old by a lovely couple who have tried for their own child for many years."

"Funny thing was while growing up I always hoped—wanted to leave my parents. I despised being related to them, hoped to be adopted of all things." Aiden chuckles bitterly.

"Has your opinion of them changed as you've matured? Do you still feel that dislike towards them?"

"I do, but its become something easier to hide. Do you know that feeling, Dr. Sauvage?"

"All too well, yes. Much of what comes with my profession includes hiding my actual feelings on a matter. This means remaining unbiased towards my clients so they may walk in the direction of their choosing in order to recover themselves at their own pace with as little of my influence as possible."

"That takes patience."

"Certainly." He says, "How has your relationship been progressing with Sergeant Barnes?"

Aiden scoffs, tightens his hold on the expensive cushioned armrest. "Most days it's okay."

"And other days?"

"Other days," He exhales sharply through his nose, "The gap between us is more clear. I'm not his equal. I'm just a kid, I'm young."

"Classifying one's self as 'young' carries a rank undertone of being both ignorant and unskilled. A man like Sergeant Barnes is a wealth of knowledge in his field. As his student, he sees you as someone with potential and as your mentor, he focuses on guiding you towards the right path."

"I can never get an idea why he's even _wasting_ his time." He grips the armrest just a bit tighter, "Is it a matter of responsibility? Reputation? Shield assigned me to him, he didn't volunteer."

"A question you should bring to Sergeant Barnes' attention."

Aiden drops his gaze to the space just before Levi's crossed legs.

"Regardless of motivation, you've become his immortality project." Levi says, "At some point, we all become aware of the inevitability of our death. Human civilization is the sum of immortality projects; the very meaning in our life molded by an innate desire to never truly die. You're his future. Do you not want to be?"

"I don't want to fail him." He says, quietly.

"Fear can be perceived as a hindrance or as a motivation, Aiden."

For most of the session, Levi works to help Aiden reflect on his thinking. Attempts an exercise that require Aiden to close his eyes, listen to the tick of a metronome and Levi's voice to guide him into a frame of mind. Aiden isn't sure if it garnered the results Levi was aiming towards but he felt calmer than the moment before. He relishes the moment, knowing it'll only be temporary. When he chances a look at the clock, Aiden is relieved to find the session was coming to a close.

"Now fortunately for you, I've recently received news about our arrangement. I've submitted formal documentation of your sound mind and Director Fury has released you of your responsibility of attending these sessions. However, I'd still like to meet with you to have conversations."

In perfect posture, Levi remains absolutely still. "Whatever worries or thoughts that are on your mind as of late, I'd welcome you to bring them forth at your own pace."

Then he's up and handing Aiden the smiley-faced box.

When Aiden later opens the box, it's to small cake, elegantly decorated with fruits and a neat icing he would've tasted if he did like sweets. A congratulatory cake, stated the card, but nothing more. If Aiden purposely leaves the cake forgotten in the back of the fridge, it would hardly go noticed.

 

-

 

Attending university had been a questionable priority on his to-do list.

Just like many, he was neither exceptional nor terrible; just an average student. Aiden's sure he'd be able to succeed fairly well in most fields outside of the math and sciences with just some more effort.

Up until his intended graduation, he'd been a pretty typical middle-class stoner kid: lazy, socially anxious, and deeply insecure. Upon special encouragement to pursue criminal law by his mother, it's really no thanks to those popularized crime investigation shows for inspiring his mother that he later finds himself in the field.

And yet, there was a thrill he sought for when it came to attacking the status quo. A kind of thrill that often posed some confusion to his own definition of true justice with the Avengers. What he stood for as the  _Gotham Gazette's_  proclaimed 'Amon'. Admittedly, it had a  _ring_  to it. Which was most likely why he didn't raise any qualms against Bucky when he brought up the news soon after Aiden's first few outings with the Avengers.

"They callin' you Amon." He snorted, adjusting the tactics bag over his shoulder. "Where the hell they get that?"

Aiden had pursed his lips thoughtfully, brows furrowed. "Beats me." He shrugged, fishing out his phone from his pocket. Later, he bothers to look deeper into the name. According to  _Google_  it's secret; faithful; even a roaring stream. He quietly approves of the air of mystery that followed it and lets them go along with it.

He stares down onto the empty granite counter-top and the realization clicks. Aiden was bound to see  _him_  again. One moment, he slides his hand over his mouth, rubs his chin, refusing to look up. At moments like these, Aiden would rather look down in his own musings. He's beginning to miss his own uneventful dreams or the ones he can't remember even having.

When bright-eyes appears, Aiden overhears him first shift around on the couch behind him, exhaling a deep sigh. It seemed like both of them weren't feeling peachy keen.

"Do I get a name this time or are you planning on playing hard-to-get?"

Aiden straightens up from his previously slouched position on the stool and glances over his shoulder at his soulmate. "Aiden." He clears his throat, "How's it going with you?"

Bright eyes promptly pulled the hood of his sweater over his head. "Are you actually curious or is this the 'facade of caring'?"

Aiden turns completely around in his stool and leans back into the edge of the counter. "A little of both."

Scrunching his face, he watches as ice blue eyes divert their attention to the carpet, "Got into a... bar fight." And it's in the purse of his lips that Aiden notices something, he sees the lie, feels as it hangs in the air between them but refrains from pointing it out.

"Should be careful there, champ." He murmurs, a hand wiping over his face now. Aiden himself had a long week, their last mission was almost put at risk by the man in the red helmet. Surely, if Bucky hadn't been overlooking his location, he would've returned back home with more than just a couple minor injuries. Much to his own dismay, the minor injuries didn't keep Barnes from reprimanding him on his recklessness.

"It's Jason, by the way."

Aiden almost forgot. When he looks over at bright eyes, the confusion on his face must've spoke for itself.

"Might as well put a name to a face now." Jason grumbled, sinking deeper into the couch. Judging by the stern tick of his jaw, he was fighting for control over his emotions.

Aiden perks up in his stool and leans forward, his elbows finding purchase just over his knees. At least now he could refer to him by something other than with a physical feature Aiden will time and time again deny he likes.

"Anyways, would you mind telling me  _where_  we are? You live here?"

Aiden makes a show of looking around, taking note of how most of the details of scattered  _Vogue_  magazines were surprisingly in tact. His room mate's condiments decorating the center of the counter top. It's been a while since he lived here, hell, it's been a while since he tried to remember.

"My old apartment." He says under his breath, surprised. Hopping off the kitchen stool ungracefully, Aiden finally settles on the dream-scape. "Everything's... exactly the same." It's pretty creepy. Aiden thinks. He lets out a humorless laugh. When the brunette dares a look to the man on the couch, finding him preoccupied with one of the large  _Vogue_  magazines that had been previously sitting on the coffee table.

"You're into  _fashion_?"Jason asks accusingly, absently flipping through the magazine.

"Those were my  _roommate's._ "

Gesturing vaguely in the air, Aiden drops into the adjacent love seat adding, "So is the tv, the flowers, decorations, the art... I never really bothered. Too much crap to worry about fitting in my car."

The magazine was then carelessly tossed off to the side.

"So, is this where we start bearing our hearts to one another?" Jason snorts, bright blues avoiding Aiden's curious eyes by making a show of picking the dirt underneath his finger nails.

"Nope." Aiden makes sure to pop the 'p'. At twenty-four, Aiden thinks, his values are still shit. Still shit if he's unwilling to try things that he fears; like sharing feelings and stuff. "This really doesn't have to be more than what it is, remember?"

A part of him still clings to the idea of  _returning_  back to where he knew he belonged and deems it as a justifiable reason for surrendering to such fears. He wanted to believe, however, Aiden can't quite do it—his odds of returning to where he belonged were slim when his appearance in this world was already a mystery to himself. So far, hes been blaming it on a stroke of bad luck; being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Then give me the chance to let me ask you the million-dollar question--what's your deal with the soulmate thing?" Jason raises is hands in the air in mock surrender just then. "Promise, you won't hurt my feelings."

Aiden's mouth opened, but no sound came out. It takes him a moment longer before he finally says, "Fate's an excuse. It relieves people from taking responsibility to make their own choices. At the very least, I've convinced myself I'm better off this way."

Jason tilts his head, poring over his reasoning before he barks out a laugh and is up on his feet just then, "That's rich."

"What?"

"People who lie to themselves--and _boy,_  do I feel it when you lie--you end up with the short-end of the stick. Better yet, you  _pick_ it;you  _choose_  to suffer. For what exactly? So you can feel noble enough to give fate the middle-finger? There isn't anything to show after that. Take it from a guy who knows, when you live like you're alone, you die just the same."

Aiden stalks up towards Jason, closing the distance between them. "I don't  _need_  to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't."

"Whatever." Aiden tuts, giving Jason a once over before he drops back into the adjacent couch.

"I didn't get to ask, how about you?" Jason breaks the tension in the air.

"What?"

"How are  _you_?"

"I'm fine."

"You're seriously on a roll with the lies tonight, aren't you?"

"For fucks-sake, Jason." Aiden sincerely hates the soulmate connection and hates how through it, he can tell Jason was mildly amused by his outburst.

"Listen, I'm not exactly a big fan of this dream-sharing any more than you are. I'm trying to pass the time. It probably would go a lot more faster if you made an effort."

Aiden's response came in the form of a cushion being flung Jason's way and smacking him across his face. When he looks to Aiden, it's to a smug smirk on full display, looking immensely proud of himself.

"There's your effort."

Jasonnarrows his eyes, his index finger twitching to reach for the cushion now on the floor and heave it back at the pompous little shit. But the plan comes to a screeching halt when he feels a sickening swoop to his stomach.  Jason finds himself entranced by the tongue swiping past his lips, over the piercing, making it lift ever so slightly. Piercings never really fascinated him. He didn't even know the significance of poking holes on a person's face (unless it was holes made from his well-deserved bullets —then yes,  _those_  he understood).

"What the hell's  _that_  on your lip?" How did he not notice it before?

Aiden blinks, taken aback. "What?"

Jason rolls his eyes, pointing an index finger to his own bottom lip. Aiden squints at him.

"Ah, this." Aiden taps his index finger over his piercing, tap-tap-tap. Jason doesn't exactly like how easily the motion catches his eyes. "I got it on a whim. It's annoying sometimes, but I like it. Great ice-breaker." The staring must've left curiosity and entered into the territory of creepy, because Aiden's eyes are blank and wide, watching him once Jason shifts his attention to them.

"Wouldn't have guessed you had a thing for piercings." Aiden's shit-eating grin has yet to leave his face, if anything--it has actually grown more self-satisfied. It demanded Jason to pull out one of his desert eagle babies and aim it for the cocky little shit's forehead. Without his guns snugged in his leg holsters, he usually felt empty. Lucky for Aiden, personal weapons don't seem to exist here.

God, Jason hasn't felt this embarrassed in  _years_. Hasn't felt this embarrassed since his years as Robin which felt like such a long time ago. He just wanted to take one of his guns and angle it at himself just underneath his chin.

It's almost painful when his consciousness comes to admit that the piercing suits him even  _more_  when he's smiling.

"I don't." He denies, emptily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original person who describes the concept of marriage for Amazons was Wonder Woman, so there's a little disclaimer to Artemis's statement on the topic.
> 
> I can't believe I'm still alive.
> 
> Something else to note: I'm personally not sure what kind of guns Jason usually keeps in his arsenal. I was originally under the impression they were Desert Eagles, but my much recent exposure to gun games (CS:GO etc) has me thinking they're dual barettas or something. Regardless, I don't think I'll change that tid-bit because Desert Eagles can be pretty cool guns when handled correctly. But much to what I've been told, they jam easily with the wrong grip, so I guess I'm setting the bar high for Jason's skill-set in implying that he's confident enough not to do that amidst a fight lol
> 
> If you've taken the time to even read this scrap of mine, gotta say, thanks. I don't necessarily have high hopes for it but it feels good to have this posted publicly somewhere


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens *raises my hands in the air and creepily wiggles my fingers*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a hot minute to decide on how to weave Hydra into playing a hand of the evil.
> 
> Not-beta read. Expect there to be typos here and there despite the hundreds of times I've proof-read through this :(

Aiden's strolling around the corner, one hand cupping over his mouth to shield a yawn and the other carrying a bag of breakfast essentials when a familiar sedan pulls to the curb beside him. Then Happy Hogan, a certain billionaire's personal chauffeur, peeks between the crack of the driver-side tinted window.

"Sorry about the surprise, Aiden." He starts, lowering his window down further the closer Aiden approached. "Boss wanted to personally deliver you a package. Want help?"

His mind was still reeling, trying to catch up with what was happening. But Aiden feels his body do that weird thing where it shakes his head for him and proceeded to ask, "Back seat or trunk?" in a surprisingly even voice. The convenient auto-pilot feature automatically flipping 'on' after an extensive period with no sleep.

"Back seat." Happy jerks his chin over his shoulder. It's only late April, pretty far off from any special occasion that would warrant gift exchanges—

 _Of course_.

Upon swinging open the door, the sight of Bucky Barnes snuggled quite comfortably against the shoulder of a very uncomfortable Tony Stark reminded Aiden that, yes—it is indeed  _that_  Thursday of the month.

"Hi shnookums." Tony greets, one hand resting on his lap and the other cradling a glass of champagne. "Steve's currently off on some top-super-secret mission to empower the Wakandan youth for the next week and Barnes was lonely, so we still did our Thursday nights with Thor, Wilson and Barton. Steve mentioned I shouldn't keep the quad-druplets away from my dazzling personality for long—perhaps not in those exact words but..."

He's been purposely avoiding the recent monthly excursions. Aiden pressed the inner corners of his eyes and withheld a petulant groan that wanted to also whine _why did you bring him here?,_  because Tony knew damn well Bucky has a floor in the tower.

Much thanks to his self-discipline, it doesn't amount to anything besides a suck of his teeth.

"Oh, don't be  _that_  way." Tony coos, moving his shoulder in a way that stirs his mentor awake. Aiden's lips press together in a slight grimace as he witnesses it. God, he was hoping to avoid facing Bucky any time soon if their conversations would resemble the small disagreement they had only a few days before. "Barnes, I have fulfilled the friendship duties I unwillingly signed up for when I started dating your bff. Now, hurry on, kiss and make up, soldier."

Bucky didn't notice his presence at first, still disoriented from being jostled out of his nap. Then his eyes settle on Aiden's own sheepish expression and he was suddenly, very awake. Aiden held his breath.

"God damn it, Stark." Bucky's eyes pointed at Tony who doesn't seem any bit surprised by the reaction.

"Listen, Barnes," And it's that condescending tone, the one that jerks at Aiden's nerves because it practically screams Tony's indifference. "It's either you or Aiden who breaks the stalemate. Don't you realize how boring you are when you get moody? It's just— _wow_. Major wet blanket. Now, go on!"

At some point, Tony had set down his champagne flute and promptly shoo-ed Bucky out of the car with a few flaps of his hand. Bucky wore a pinched expression and Aiden wouldn't put it past him getting violent. But he instead settles for slamming the door closed, earning him Happy's glare through the driver's side window. Bucky deflates a little at that, the slight slump in his shoulders making Aiden bite his inner cheek so he doesn't do something stupid like  _smile_.

Aiden raises his wrist up to his face, making a show of reading the time displayed on his watch. He debates on saying something or nothing at all. Just as he shifts his attention to Tony's car watching as it disappears into the next street, Aiden takes a deep breath and finally says, "You can either come up or head back to New York"

Bucky doesn't move right away.

Fishing out his cellphone, he set to reply to a text Spider-man sent him. Even had finished typing in his pass-code (because the damn home-button keeps refusing to read his thumb-print) when Bucky passes by him and walks up the steps into the apartment building wordlessly. Aiden helplessly concludes that the super-soldier must be staying the night and trails a few steps behind him.

 

Dropping himself onto the lazy-boy in the relatively empty living room, Bucky is rough handling the fake aloe vera plant Pepper gifted them when they'd been stationed in Gotham. Watching Bucky toss the plant in the air, wasn't anything less than annoying. 

"Mind sharing with the rest of the class what's got you in a foul mood?"

"Oh," He stops mid-toss, gaze flicking upwards for a moment of consideration before resuming the action. "Y'know damn well what's got me pissed, you  _reckless_  punk. Those bruised ribs and flesh wounds you're sportin'? Where the fuck are you gettin' those _from_?"

"I may have increased the difficulty-level of the practice bots at the tower during the weekend." Aiden explains immediately, he's rehearsed the confession several times. It also helps that he's busying himself by re-stocking the fridge when he feels like he'd crack. "Guess I over-estimated myself."

An _amateur_ mistake, Aiden's mind points out after careful reflection of a losing fight with the Hood. Lately, doubt has him beginning to weigh on Bucky Barnes' efficiency as a mentor. In his early days at SHIELD headquarters, Agent Coulson often reminded him ' _Good training will prepare you to face a weapon_ ', but coming into more contact with someone who navigated with brutal force and skill like the Red Hood he's thinking there's more to it than just training. Perhaps if the training was extraordinary and he was lucky, then maybe there'd be some truth to Coulson's words. Luck, however, is not something that came to him on a dime. Aiden's already using whatever's left of his luck to make it out of a fight with the Red Hood breathing.

And if he's purposely seeking the masked vigilante out in substitute for his morning jog every other week through Gotham, that's no one's business but his own. He thinks it's worth to note that the Red Hood has avoided killing him, especially when Aiden gives him the chance with his obvious lack of experience.

Maybe he just enjoyed a living punching bag.

When he turned to face the living area, the tension in Bucky's shoulders were very much apparent. His single styptic blink told Aiden he didn't believe him. If Aiden just didn't submit to the scrutiny, he'd think that Bucky wouldn't have a reason to press. At least his frustrative juggling act has been reduced to a firm grip of the plastic pot.

"I've been taking advantage of the SHIELD database--using all the fancy-shmancy satellite tech to do a nation-wide scan for some strange activity."

Aiden wrinkles his nose. "Strange activity as in-- what kind of strange are we talking about? Stephen Strange-kind of strange?"

"It's been too quiet."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"When it's too calm, usually it turns out just bein' the calm before the storm." Bucky chews on his inner cheek. "When I did the scan, I scanned at different frequencies and I watch the news, flip through different state broadcasts and the scan picks _something_ up. It's signal is subtle. I copied the data and brought it to the tower and let Jarvis work at it for a few hours." 

Aiden isn't sure why he's starting to feel an ache at the back of his throat.

"For the location the signal was picked up in- let's just say it didn't help me feel any better."

"Alright, so where'd the signal pop up from?"

"An abandoned war bunker. It would've been active back when I was in the army. Nowadays, it's jus' been sittin' there- _should've_ been jus' sittin' there."

"So if it's active, guess that means we should go check it out."

Bucky only nods once, avoiding Aiden's eyes. "I've already told Steve. He'll come back a few days early."

 

-

 

Not long after setting foot in Bludhaven an uninvited guest finds their way onto the same rooftop as him. They both somehow possess the uncanny ability to sense when Jason sets foot in their territory. Jason seethes at the thought that Nightwing's unwarranted check-in's were extensions of Bruce keeping a close eye on him even when he all but knows, Dick and Bruce's relationship was weird.

"Before you ask— _no_ , I haven't killed anyone on the way here. Promise." Jason mutters, not bothering to turn around. "Knocked around a few thugs, so they'll probably feel that in the morning."

"Nice seeing you too, Hood." Nightwing says casually. It must mean something when he can picture the soft smile on Dick's face just as he said those words. He probably means it too. "I doubt you came all this way because you missed me. What brings you this far from Gotham?"

Jason doesn't respond, instead relies most of his mental will-power on monitoring the streets below—and the bond. He feels the discomfort threatening to seep out of Aiden's side of the bond and Jason  _should_  ease the kid's comfort. But a part of him can't bring himself to, knowing if he coddled the boy even a little he'll draw in on himself like he's been doing up until a week ago. Nightwing exhaling a disappointed but exaggerated sigh finally urges him to turn.

"I'd rather be anywhere else than Gotham." He grumbles, petulantly.

"So, Bludhaven comes second to Gotham?"

"Only when the crooks suddenly sprouted brains and started getting organized."

"Patrols around here have been smooth over the past few weeks." Nightwing agrees, lips pursing in dissatisfaction. "Everyone's been on their best behavior."

"Doesn't sound good."

"Have you spoken to Batman lately?" He starts, approaching Jason. "Red Robin has been busy with the Titans and Robin's... occupied."

By 'occupied', Jason's sure he means to say that he's being forced to invest more of his time into the façade of his ordinary life as Damian Wayne, son of billionaire successful entrepreneur, Bruce Wayne. He scoffs at the thought and doesn't recall having to carry on the public appearance like Dick or Damian does. Allowing himself to search for the deeper meaning behind that is a dangerous thing, Jason knows better. Right now wasn't the time to pull skeletons out of the closet, Jason's got bigger fish to fry.

Jason rolls his eyes. "And Batwoman?"

"Banned from Gotham."

"Had a feeling she'd get on the Bats' bad side one of these days." He snickers. It really was a matter of time. 

Then this weight falls on his stomach, making Jason visibly recoil; taking a step back and looking down onto himself. His hands reach for the helmet because if he's about to throw up, he'd rather not do it inside the Hood where he could probably drown in it. Just as he does it, he knows Nightwing doesn't miss it.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing approaches Jason, hands reaching out to touch him but they don't. His gloved hands hovers over his shoulders just in case. Jason appreciates it. He doesn't like being touched.

"Bad tacos? Never goin' to  _Moe's_ ever again." It must've been just something bad he ate. He turns, increasing the distance between them and climbs onto the building ledge as nonchalantly as possible; an effort made to shake off the tinge of nausea attempting to crawl up his throat.

Nightwing doesn't believe whatever act he's hoping to pull off, he can tell. Jason, rattled by the sensation, realizes that he needed to leave quick, but whatever churned his stomach has yet to fully pass. Falling off his grapple hook at this height while partially immobile was risky. He wasn't in the mood to nurse any injuries or be on the receiving end of Dick's mother-bird pecking.

"You were in Gotham for a while, right? Have you caught wind of any neo-nazi hate crimes lately?"

Jason's quietly thankful for conversation shift.

"Only heard. Haven't had the luck of running into the guy doing it." He swallows thickly.

"Batman's not putting it past considering that there's some connection to Hydra."

"The story goes that the spangling man with a plan defeated them back in the forties."

Nightwing crosses his arms and Jason starts getting the sense that the story isn't entirely true. German and Russian organizations with an agenda to cultivate a 'better' world weren't a normal headache on his bad guy radar. They were tenacious and owned thousands of followers in various occupations of significant power. It's a matter that had all possibilities of getting messy, Jason doesn't like cleaning up messes. Only making them.

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me that they've been alive this whole time."

"They did have a saying,  _If a head is cut off, two more shall take its place_."

"Okay, not at all creepy."

"There's been a suspicious amount of what the police department would consider as 'petty hate crimes'-- swastikas drawn over dead bodies of thugs, sometimes in their own blood or carved into their skin." Nightwing's voice hardens, "They've overlooked it because it's only small-time criminals. But similar activity has been picking up over the last few months. I don't think they're just hate crimes. Maybe a warning."

"God, I hate nazis."

The Winter Soldier and his early affiliations with both the KGB and Hydra organization doesn't slip Jason's web of connections. Nor does the mysterious addition of his sidekick and the Black Widow on the Avengers roster. It may just be a hunch, but a hard swallow down his throat reminds him that it's not easy breaking off ties with those kinds of institutions. One always tended to lose something in exchange for their ties or even worse, they never lost ties and just wore the appearance of distance like a spare set of clothes.

The partnership between the Avengers and a government organization like Shield overseeing their mission activities, Jason can connect the dots pretty quick on how this could spiral out of control and cause a mass panic (cue the conspiracy theories). Nightwing's got the world's greatest detective on his side, so he's probably already keeping an eye on the group. Jason explains none of this to Nightwing, instead opting for a simple, "I'll keep a look out." Because he's spiteful.

"I suppose it's pointless to tell you to stay out of trouble, huh?"

Jason snorts, "See? Way smarter than you look." Then he grapples onto another building.

At the top of his to-do list right now was putting as much distance between him and the other _bat-lings_. The last thing he needed was the batty bunch to find out he has a mate.

 

-

 

"Dr. Sauvage, how do you feel about the soulmate phenomenon?" 

Levi's expressions are subtle, they often lack transparency. If Aiden's not paying attention it's hard to read him.  His penetrative gaze leaving Aiden mildly uncomfortable more times than not. He finds that widening the distance between them lessen the brunt of it. Though, he can't seem to shake the prickling of ants crawling underneath his skin when he feels the doctor's focus solely on him.

"It is seen as a good thing— a  _blessing_ , to know that out there in the world is someone compatible, someone who compliments ourselves despite our many flaws and yet accepts us with unconditional love and a trust that runs deep." Levi watches Aiden walk against the horrible rays of sunlight coming from the opened windows, he's feeling genuinely amused by the topic but successfully hides it. 

"I unfortunately have not received the opportunity to meet my soulmate." Levi admits. "Those who do however, become aware of their soulmate at some point during puberty. The current state of our scientific understanding of the phenomenon is laughingly limited. Some speculate it may have less to do with science but more so with spirituality and existential beings beyond our understanding—dare I say, God? Or perhaps something as simple as luck."

Aiden simply stares out the window, inscrutably.

"Nonetheless, soulmates inevitably cross paths. One way or another, they become a part of your life to some degree even if you do not engage with them romantically." He finishes, finally opening his notes to a blank page.

"Isn't it unfair?" Aiden turns his back to the wall of windows, his first time meeting Levi's eyes this session. "To have something like that decided for you."

"I suppose that it may seem that our will has been stolen from us, but, the bond simply shifts attention; making you conscious of them." He pauses, "It does not make us choose to be with them. That is the aspect that is up to us; our only choice in the matter."

"But most do."

"But most do. It's convenient that way." Levi agrees. "In all of our conversations, you've never broached the topic of soulmates. What has caught your interest, Aiden?"

There's something in him that wants to share his recent discovery with Levi. Aiden thinks it has more to do with Levi's soothing voice rather than an actual feeling of trust. He stews in that realization while clenching and un-clenching his hand, using the silence to work on pushing down the sudden need to confide.

"Must be because I'm all too wrapped-up in my one man vendetta against our divine decree." He replies, flatly.

"Would discovering you have a soulmate be so bad?"

"It's circumstantial at best." Aiden says after a beat.

Levi takes note of it. From their few appointments, Levi has here and there come to hear his own rhythm and syntax in Aiden's voice. He draws an elegant explanation mark at the tail-end of his written note, curious to find out if Aiden does it deliberately or involuntarily. They have many sessions to go, Levi has time to find out.

"How about we entertain the scenario that you've found out recently." Aiden presses his lips together, his throat clicked just as he swallowed. "Considering your current circumstances, what then would be your reaction?

"Denial."

"You respond with the beginnings of the five stages of grief?"

"I mourn the loss of choice." He clarifies with a sharp-edge to his words, gazing uncomfortably down at the rug.

"Not all soulmates are fully connected at first. Just because a part of you initially connects, doesn't mean all of you will until the first skin-on-skin contact."

Aiden seems to consider that for a moment, somewhere between pleased and apprehensive in his expression.

"Does knowing that Sergeant Barnes has no soulmate make it easier to befriend him?" He can't hold back the prescient smile that begins tickling the corners of his lips. "Certainly someone with a soulmate can't fully understand what it's like to live without one in this world."

When it came to discussing Bucky Barnes, Aiden bristles, wets his lips and gives the psychiatrist a generic answer that would answer his question, then promptly changes the direction of the appointment to recent news. In most recent appointments, he's made more of an effort to avoid discussing Sergeant Barnes.

Dr. Sauvage isn't content with his answer nor the shift of conversation topic to the work of lowly vigilantes on Gotham streets. His face tightens and for the rest of the session he disengages, the few times he has something he wants to add it comes as a challenge to Aiden's logic when the boy unintentionally expresses his doubts of his own skills.

When Aiden begins touching upon the likes of the Batman, Levi cuts him off. "Does it make you uncomfortable speaking about Sergeant Barnes?"

And it's as though he's snatched the air right out the boy's throat. "Yes."

Levi settles a bit, appreciating the honesty behind the answer.

  

-

 

"We really have to stop meeting like this."

Seriously. He hates Gotham enough as it is, but the more recent run-ins with the Avenger's youngest and not so brightest addition has gotten him a bit annoyed. It's as if the kid _knows_ this is his favorite roof to survey on before the sun starts peeking out of the sky in an hour or so. Would it be too egotistical to start to believe that the guy was actually waiting for him?

The boy turns and looks up at him, regarding him briefly from behind his trademark goggles and face mask before returning his attention to the South of Gotham. His arms are crossed over his chest, nowhere near his handguns, Jason observes. If he really wanted to, he could "accidentally" take down the kid a peg or two. Get some revenge. The limited exposure he's had to the boy's skill-set offered him enough to know what to expect. From someone with a reputation as widely known as the Winter Soldier, he's actually a bit disappointed his sidekick didn't live up to much of the hype. 

Maybe all he needed was a bit more violence. Violence always helped drill the finer details outside of rationalization. Batman just never understood that. They play at and study violence for their own indirect rewards, whether it's to show-off a tough image, to be more confident and less fearful or to just take home a trophy. He always needed some kind of tortured reason or justification for his misery. 

As much as he'd like to leave something more scarring on the Winter Soldier's sidekick, he didn't need the Winter Soldier on his tail. He's already ran the mileage on his vengeful-card, so that's out of the question. It would be in his best interest to keep a close eye on the duo entirely because of their possible connections to the disturbing neo-nazi incidents, so Jason stays.

"Not even a hello? That really hurts my feelings, kiddo." He hops down from his spot on the water boiler. "Is your friend around?"

Jason doesn't even know why he bothers trying to make conversation. The kid doesn't talk. So when he turns around and faces him, Jason's shoulders get tense. The man is pulling out his weapons and setting them aside and Jason barely refrains from bursting into a fit of cackles. Did the kid really want to try him hand-to-hand? _Again_?

"Rematch? You sure know the way to my heart." And Jason follows suit, stripping away his visible arsenal. His hidden weaponry remains on him, because realistically he doesn't trust the kid. Even if he has slumber parties with the likes of the Avengers on a daily basis.

Had this been an actual violent encounter, Jason's first choice wouldn't have been to give the boy a  _chance_. He would've surprised him even before he'd register what was happening and shoot the threat before the boy could even reach for his own weapons. He's never been too good at practicing patience, so killing quickly benefited him more in both in the short and long term.

"Actually," Jason pauses, in consideration. "How about you keep your guns."

And he looks taken aback for a few moments until Jason's pulling out a knife from its pocket on his tactical belt. If the boy knew anything worthwhile he'd immediately realize that at this range, wielding a knife would be so much more versatile than a gun. Jason's learned the hard way. Guns do damage in one direction and if the kid could get the muzzle away from him, he won't take damage. But in comparison to the gun, the knife can bring about damage in, out and sideways. Even if he may have a fast reaction time to draw his guns, Jason's confident enough to cover the five feet between them and begin slashing and stabbing.

The fight begins with a small drop in the boy's shoulders and then it's clock-work. Jason knows to advance forward and relish in the widening of the boy's eyes, he still hasn't drawn his gun out of its holster and is frozen in shock. _Violence works_ , and the less people are prepared for it, the better it _works_.

Jason'll be sure that the young Avenger has the cuts to remember the fact.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might've noticed there's some background-Steve/Tony. *wiggles eyebrows* Though, they won't really get much exposure in the main events of the story. 
> 
> Most commonly, I've read authors explain that characters know they have soulmates from birth or they don't know until they meet them(first touch/first words etc). I've been debating on how to come up with a plausible reasoning for determining if a character has a SM or not so my twist on it would be:
> 
> When both soulmates are alive, they'll experience dream-sharing when the youngest of the pair is going through puberty (?? So you can assume that if you don't experience it first, you're either the elder of the pair or... there's an age gap idk)
> 
> With that, you can guess that something's weird about Aiden & Jason's situation (Well, i mean Aiden's been a weird variable since he starts off not knowing how he woke up with barely any memories aside a few).
> 
> I'll go a tad more deeper into a rough explanation of the process in future end-notes.
> 
> The WWII bunker Bucky talks about is the same bunker Natasha and Steve visit back in CA:TWS FYI. ;)
> 
> Thanks for popping in guys.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he's consumed by the burst of sensations, an intense feeling of 'completeness' washed over him. Aiden shivers despite being warm underneath the kevlar of his uniform.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, any language spoken outside of English has been translated from the "trusty" pal Google translate. Hence, the translations may not be entirely correct or may even be completely wrong, I don't know lol.
> 
> Not-beta read. There's bound to be typos. Sorry!

 

 "Aiden didn't come back with you this week?"

Bucky's eyes briefly rise from the tablet in his lap to catch the soft smile Steve's directing at him. Steve leans against the kitchen threshold his hands in his pockets. His hair damp and his face slightly flushed from a warm shower. Bucky musters up a small smile of his own before returning his eyes back to the information hes been reading for the past few hours. A collection of police reports with similarities he's highlighted.

"Nah, it's SHIELD's day with him today." Bucky swipes two fingers across the screen, five crime investigation photos appear. "Aiden said if SHIELD has him most of the week, he might as well stay in Gotham until the next mission."

"About that mission," Steve crosses his arms over his chest, approaching the couch. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, Y'know how I like to hope for the best. But from what I've collected so far, sounds like we're gettin' a dose of Nazi propaganda." A particular photo has Bucky frowning, as if it personally insulted him.

Steve tenses, "Hydra-related?"

"Could just be a group of fans tryna' live up to the Hydra-hype." He holds out his tablet to Steve. "Police in the tri-state area have been finding suspicious hate-crimes. Coincidentally, all within a one-mile radius to abandoned war bunkers."

"Have you investigated the war bunkers within range of other hate-crimes?"

"A few over the past few days. People were there, Steve. Place was wiped clean. Whatever they're gettin' out of those bunkers they must want _some_ attention or else what's the point of giving a thug some scarification?"

Bucky turns to Steve, standing beside the couch.

"Strange thing is, there hasn't been a hate-crime  _yet_ within the radius of the war bunker I picked up a signal on."

"So, expect to see some unfriendlies." 

"Possibly."

The space beside Bucky dips with Steve's weight. 

"What's really goin' on, Steve?" He locks the tablet and sets it on the coffee table in front of his knees

"Just want to check in." Steve says. "We never really get to see much of you here in the tower since you're stationed in Gotham with Aiden." Truthfully, Bucky would say that Steve was embellishing this idea for dramatic effect.

"Calling and texting isn't enough for you?" Bucky teases, his smile growing a tad bit wider. For the most part, Steve's presence has the ability to greatly influence the mood in a room. "But everythin' is just swell. When it isn't raining cats and dogs in Gotham it's doable. No place like New York, though. God knows I've been craving that pizza place on Madison."

"How is Aiden?" Steve finally asks. Bucky senses that he's been more curious of the kid even before the conversation began.

"He learns quick, disciplined, well prepared until his emotions get in the way." He pauses, "He needs to work on controlling himself more."  Bucky believes it's quite telling that he's only able to describe Aiden by skill attributes rather than traits that describe him as a person.

"Complicated? Never sure what to do or how to help outside of training. Frankly, it pisses me  _off_  when I remember it's been nearly a year since Shield dropped him in our lap and the kid doesn't seem any more comfortable around us than the day we first met him."

Bucky stares at his hands, waiting for Steve to say something. When the words don't come, he turns to find Steve considering him thoughtfully, almost as if he's satisfied that Bucky was stumped on something other than on the logistics of a mission or a newly hired dame at Shield.

"Y'got somethin' to  _say_?"

"It's nice that you care a lot about him." Steve says, sincerely before his eyes drop to the space between them. "I was a bit worried you might've taken on too much since Aiden came to us not too long after—"

"I finished therapy, yeah i geddit'." He mutters.

Steve sighs, reaching over to firmly hold Bucky's shoulder. A welcomed weight the brunette didn't know he needed until it was there. "If you need time from Aiden being your responsibility, believe it or not but Natasha offered to take him off your hands."

His brows furrowed. That didn't sound right. "Nat would eat the kid alive."

"I think it would help her too." Steve says slowly. "She has doubts about Aiden. I'm not sure why. But hopefully if they become more accustomed to one another, she'd relax a bit."

"She's always on guard, Steve." He reminds him.

Steve seems to ponder this fact for a long second before managing a light chuckle and nod, "I won't disagree with you there. Maybe at the very least, relax her enough to the point it's not written on her face."

Bucky snorts at that before peering around at the still seemingly empty communal space. "You better not let her hear you. You'd be lucky to wake up with both your eyes tomorrow."

 

-

 

"Despite the bunker having been reportedly unused for decades, I'd still suggest a quiet infiltration. Traps may still be operational and it would do us more harm than good to poke around too much without proper assurances."

"Must I _remind_ everyone who was the person who found the secret passage-way a while ba— _ow_." Natasha's gaze is unwavering as Tony who sits opposite of her hunches forward, reaching underneath the table to nurse his abused shin with a frown.

Steve watches the proceedings like a polite guest, witnessing a family argument but not engaging in it.

"Most of the people we have available, work on ground." Steve clears his throat, "This isn't our first mission as a team, but because we don't know who or what we'll find, I'm taking some time to prioritize the safety of the team. With that being said, rather than going in as one unit, it'll be easier to divide into two groups. Natasha, Aiden, Bucky and I will be phase-one; we'll access the facility first."

"There's nothing stealthy about using the front door." Tony mutters.

"Phase two will include Iron Man, Hulk and Hawkeye manning the skies for anything suspicious."

On the projector screen, Steve's tracing over the outer perimeter of the dated blue-print. A pregnant pause as he takes a moment to himself to debate on any added comments before concluding, "Once the outer perimeters have been cleared, Iron Man and Hulk, you're free to proceed into the bunker."

In Clint's seat, he's sinking lower in mild disappointment. " _I'm_  manning the Quinjet?" He sulks.

Steve's eyes shift to him smoothly. "Worst case scenario if we need to retreat quick, it would be helpful to keep the engines warm." 

"So little faith in Stark-tech, Cap? That hurts. I’ll get Pepper to give you a copy of the quinjet manual."

Steve averts his eyes from Tony, exchanging looks with everyone else at the table. "Questions?"

Ending without any questions aside from Tony's snark have led the group to get suited up and meet in the quinjet hanger just before sunset. Aiden's uncertain where the wave of anxiety that makes his fingers tremble and his jaw clench comes from. Barnes finds his place beside him, hovering there until Aiden's finished situating his mask over his face.

"You're tense." He says, a little cautiously.

"Probably just nerves." Aiden tries rolling his neck casually to will away the feeling. "Big group mission and all. Never been included in the big missions."

Bucky nods once just before he gives Aiden a quick pat on the back. "Get all sentimental and you might just give Stark a reason to throw a party."

"Heard that." Tony's chimes in through their shared comms channel. "And if it's a party Aiden wants, its one we'll _all_ get. I dont know about you guys, but there's something divine about mini hotdogs—"

"Not the time, team. Lets focus." 

"Aye aye, o'captain of mine." Tony sing-songs.

 

-

 

With what began as an auspicious infiltration mission, became a series of mishaps. For this mission, detaining all personnel and seizing sensitive documents were top-priorities. But, priorities changed as soon as the Avenger's came to realize they were second to arriving on the scene. The outside of the war-bunker appeared undisturbed, the surrounding shrubbery neglected. Yet, the chains that kept the front doors locked sit on the ground, clipped in half.

Most of Aiden's experience with the Red Hood didn't include crossing paths with the rest of his group. A new addition to their current mission goal now was to split up and apprehend the trio. Iron Man and Hulk teamed up to take on the Kryptonian while Captain America and Thor made strategic teamwork towards subduing the Amazon. 

It only leaves Aiden, Bucky, and Natasha left to counter the Red Hood. 

He had opt for searching deeper into the base while Natasha took the East Wing and Barnes, the West Wing. At the end of the hall, an elevator idles on the basement floor. Prying open the doors and lowering himself down the rope, Aiden enters the elevator. The doors remained open as he proceeded onto the basement floor.

Finding broken glass littering the floors and the occasional body were all tell-tale signs that Aiden was on the right trail. The Red Hood already done with rendering any occupants of the abandoned base unconscious. The vigilante always managed to leave a trail of bodies that led straight back to him. Aiden slips through the pried open double-doors and finds himself surrounded by a room of computer screens.

Further into the center of the space, a large computer screen and control panel is being occupied. Broad shoulders filled a brown leather coat and a distinctive red helmet. The Red Hood keeps his back faced to him, hands working to stuff something into his leather jacket's inner pockets. Aiden thought he may have heard footsteps approach from behind, but it might've been his heartbeat.

"Back for more?" The distorted voice sounded amused. As much as he'd like to waste a few more minutes wondering how he gave himself away, Aiden adjusts his goggles.

"Ich habe die Red Hood gefunden."  _I've found the Red Hood_. He speaks into his communicator.

He's ordered not to kill the Red Hood, they needed to bring the group back to headquarters alive. Natasha's orders changed. She's supposed to be heading for his location now, but Aiden shouldn't engage the Red Hood until she arrives. Barnes tells him that he'll catch up as soon as he can.

"Verstanden."  _Understood_.

"Well, I hope you plan on fighting smarter." The Red Hood hums, his hand returning to his sides. Aiden notices his bare hands. Fingers thrumming lightlyon the handle of his guns. "You gave me a few good grazes last time. Had to get a new hood thanks to you."

There are faint tremors channeling through the building's structure. Every now and then, a spray of concrete expels itself with each accompanying thud. The Red Hood turns, on the table were his gloves. Aiden watches him, breathing in a newfound confidence that could mimic the Winter Soldier's posture. Keep pretending and soon enough Aiden won't be able to differentiate between the mask and who he is underneath. Pretending doesn't breed skills, the rational part of his brain warns him. After all, he isn't supposed to engage the Red Hood, but the thing is that he had something to prove.

Then Aiden advances forward, drawing out his hand-gun and keeping it leveled. The first few rounds, the Red Hood successfully dodges, moving behind a wall of small screens, waiting. Waiting for what? Aiden couldn't phantom in the moment, much too absorbed by the adrenaline and reloading the emptied magazine. The answer finally registers when it comes barreling at him from his blind spot.

Being a novice to real-world battle-conditions, he doesn't consider reloading his guns until the moment he couldn't shoot them. An empty clicking sound and a drop in his stomach, moments like these Aiden is an open target. A dangerous habit that Bucky time and time again hounded him about during practice sessions. It's so elementary, something hes' been taught since his Shield-days. All it takes is the Red Hood tackling him down into the mess of debris, wrestling around for purchase over his limbs that Aiden feels something akin to dread. Aiden's only ever learned when it came to life-or-death situations. 

The concrete uncomfortably pokes at him through the kevlar padding underneath his uniform. It dawns on him then that the Red Hood had yet to actually pull out his guns. They've maneuvered across the floor punching and kicking at any exposed body part, a mess of flying limbs. Making Aiden beg the question, why hasn't the Red Hood drawn his weapon on him yet?

During a tumble for control, Aiden reaches for one of the Hood's pocketed guns and uses the back end of the handle to knock him off of his momentum. A moment was all he needed, it gave him an opening; an opportunity of emerging victorious. When the Hood curls into his side disoriented, Aiden take the opportunity to send a flying kick through the helmet. He falls into the debris with a grunt. Then there, it's a small indistinct voice at first, it reminds him he was holding the Hood's gun. How it's loaded and waiting for a release, Aiden should shoot him so he wouldn't have a chance to run. Shoot the kneecaps.

 _See_.

Sometimes he'd hear the instruction in his sleep, in fragments of a fevered dream. Dream-sharing had interrupted the nightmare manifestations. Now, Aiden remembers them as bad memories. Hearing the instruction while awake, stirs a sense of vengeance. The night-terrors never left, he realizes. Instead of fear filling his thoughts, Aiden feels  _glory_  for what’s to come. He knew he was waiting. But for what? The answer doesn't come before the world is swept up right from under him. It comes as a fleeting thought where he could never be quick enough. Almost, but no cigar. Aiden doesn't feel the weight of the gun in his hand anymore. He can't remember when it leaves his grasp and his vision begins to fill with stars. He feels like he's choking on his own blood underneath his mask, feels an eye swell underneath the goggles before it cracks from the pressure being pounded into his face.

"Guess it was too much to expect you to learn something from our play dates."

The beating comes to a pause and through a strange kind of detached hysteria Aiden wants to believe Black Widow arrives to the scene, but the weight keeping him pinned against the ground is still heavy and unmovable. Black Widow or the Winter Soldier arriving in time would be too ideal. He tries to open his right eye, the lens of the goggles long cracked and destroyed. He glares up at the Red Helmet in a hazel-eyed fury. He supposes he's lucky the lens hadn't stabbed his eyeball. If it had, it would've been difficult to watch as its owner levels a gun barrel at the space between his eyes.

"This job isn't for everyone, kid. Maybe a bullet through the skull is what it takes to get you to understand that."

"Was wirst du mit diesen Informationen machen?"  _What are you going to do with that information_?

He uses German. A gamble, considering Bucky's own limited understanding of the Red Hood's origin. There hadn't been an opportunity to investigate the vigilante further, but Bucky did say he recognized his fighting style and techniques. When Aiden presses for more information, the super-soldier only gives him a name: Egon.

"Ich weiß, du verstehst meine Worte."  _I know you understand my words_.

The Red Hood presses the end of the barrel against Aiden's forehead with more pressure.

Aiden's not sure what possesses the Red Hood to wrap his freehand around his exposed neck. The action in itself intimate compared to the man's preferred method of killing. Shooting was easy, quick, detached. Perhaps he didn't want him moving his head to try and offset a clean shot. Maybe the Red Hood felt obligated to hammer the last nail in his coffin since it's clear whatever beating Aiden endured during their spontaneous sparring sessions was a waste of his time.

But something changes upon the skin-on-skin contact.

Static passes his body in waves, an uncomfortable burning sensation manifesting at his nape. It leaves Aiden momentarily euphoric before fading in a matter of seconds.

What struck Aiden, what he feels that he would always remember from this moment: a foreign warmth and an inaudible 'click' in his mind, signals everything had just fallen into place.  His face upturned toward the Red Hood, softly gasping as though he could breathe the feelings coursing through the touch. He wants him to touch his neck more--his  _skin_.

He overhears a soft gasp from above. Aiden assumes that the man experiences the same burn. The malicious intent that hugged his neck and kept the gun trained against his forehead is gone. Aiden doesn't know what the surrender means and he resents it for shrouding him in uncertainty even if it is only for a couple of minutes. 

The Red Hood holsters the firearm and his hand moves to gently pull off the goggles from Aiden's face. Aiden groans at the absence of its weight, bright lights pierce his vision. He doesn't know what the Red Hood plans on doing to him. Threaten the secrecy of his true identity? Once the face mask is peeled off, of the mess of blood that collected underneath it and Aiden's hears how his breathing is strained. Aiden doesn't like how he sounds like a pug in high humidity.

"You're... Aiden."

He almost misses the whisper. Aiden stops breathing, eyes widening as much as ensuing black-eyes would allow, caught in shock

There it was, the soundtrack to his nightmares. If underneath the red helmet were familiar icey blues, Aiden doesn't know if he would laugh or sing his favorite string of curses (doesn't know if he _can_ even laugh). He never imagined them meeting in-person to finally seal their bond in names on their skin because they avoided the subject of meeting outside the dreams like the plague.

But this begins to explain why.

"Jason?" His voice is barely a croak and it's as if it snaps the vigilante out of his inner musings.

The Red Hood presses a hand to the side of his helmet and the face-plate springs up, revealing a familiar face Aiden's only used to seeing with his eyes closed. The whirring of the generator powering the machines were all that broke the silence

"You don't know who you're really working for, Aiden." 

Aiden wilts underneath his gaze.

"What do y'mean by tha'?"

Jason finally hauls himself off of Aiden, a flood of fresh air filling his lungs in the absence of his weight. Aiden's pulled onto his feet where he felt more comfortable to spit a wad of blood to the side.

"Hydra." Jason's digging into his jacket pocket, messily pulling out a small stack of papers that'd been stapled at the corner. "The information you and your friends were sent to get? High-grade tech blueprints." He's speaking in a long breathy-stretch of words, Aiden's struggling a bit to keep up. 

The world felt slightly more disoriented, his focus distant and his body wavering in place. Much of what Jason was explaining seemed suspicious, but Aiden can't help but close his eyes for a long moment trying to rid away the sensation. An arm hugs around his waist, he feels nauseous.

"High-tech suits and weaponry, freshly branded as AIM and SHIELD-approved." Then a careful tap to his cheek makes him blink his eyes open, "Are you alright?"

He ignores the inquiry. "You can't seriously think that-"

"I don't try to pin people to shit just because I don't like them. I got better things to do with my time." He breathes sharply through his nose, "And the only reason how I know you're not a part of it is because what I'm feeling through the bond. Your friends? Who knows."

The sound of heeled boots distantly clapping against the ground catches both of their attentions before their eyes snap back to each other's. Hazels meeting blues, there was something in that shared gaze that dissolved Aiden of his doubts. Aiden feels his blood swim beneath his skin, his pulse beat against his chest.

"Your choice, boy wonder." Not tearing his attention away even as the face-plate of the hood clips back into place. "Sounds messy whichever way you look at it."

Aiden feels his body make the decision for him. It doesn't immediately register until he's staring at Natasha's face from over the unfamiliar weight of a gun in his hand pointed in her direction. This was a moment for clarity, this was him committing to what he feels to be true.

"Aiden." She stays rooted in her spot, hands at her sides. "Let’s take a second to talk about what you're doing."

Jason at Aiden's side, keeps his grip on his remaining gun but it hadn't left his holster. Natasha's gaze flickers between both men, suspicious of what may have conspired before her arrival. Reaching behind his jacket, Jason drops a few metallic balls. As soon as they settled on the ground, the balls began dispersing a thick fog of gas. A guise for either fleeing the scene while they still had the upper-hand or trying their luck with subduing the Black Widow. The smoke fills the room with a surprisingly quick efficiency and lingers in the air.He shouldn't have volunteered to use Jason's gun, not when he's right-eye dominant and he's having difficulty seeing through said dominant eye. Natasha charges for them and Jason engages her.

He can barely make out the silhouettes of either one of them. There's a groan and he steadies the gun towards the corner of the room. Positioned at the corner of the room is a boiler. Shooting the boiler would create a small explosion that could give them enough time to get away from Natasha (from the team if they were _that_ lucky). Aiden starts to see it as a necessary injury he has to force himself to sustain and waits.

It takes the careful click and hum of what Aiden recognizes to be Natasha's widow bites to gather a good idea of where she was when he begins shooting a controlled burst of shots at the smoke. Each time he pulled the trigger, the recoil ripples through his hands. A few sounding clinks before the flame blooms through the fog, blue and yellow, then a roar and a burst of orange light as the flames surge. Aiden shields his face the roar of fire, the explosion sends him off the ground several feet backwards. 

Aiden hits the wall, the breath in his lungs leaving him upon impact. In a quiet and muted stillness, he's getting himself on all fours. Aiden waves his arm through the space in front of him. Smoke hangs in the air, sending him into a small fit of coughs. The ceiling above what used to be the boiler, collapsed and now a gaping hole into the first floor hall. The immediate area is smoke-damaged. Computers within proximity destroyed. Just a few feet to his side, he spots Jason's gun and picks it up, engaging the safety. In the other corner, it's easy to see Jason who's already sat up with a hand pressed against the side of his helmet. Aiden forces himself up against his body's protesting aches and limps over, he must've took a bad fall on his left foot after hitting the wall.

"You could've killed all of us."

"But I didn't." He holds the gun out to Jason and watches as he returns it back into its holster.

"Don't let it get to your head. You still need a lot of work."  _Reckless_. Aiden's mind translated.

Aiden offers his hand and much to his surprise, Jason takes it but they don’t move. He stares at Jason’s hand in his, notices many small scars on it and several new nicks and abrasions. Peaking out from under his sleeve, a smooth scar on the back of his wrist might have been a burn. He clears his throat and Aiden finally helps him to his feet. Jason doesn’t release his hold however, uses his hand to guide Aiden’s arm over his shoulder and support him.

At first, the boy squirms against him uncomfortably, he didn’t like feeling propelled much less being a burden. Jason’s limp sympathy should’ve felt like a spit on Aiden’s cheek, but he had trouble believing it over the intensity of the bond looming over the corners of his mind. He lets the bond have this win.

Jason shifts his attention over to a mountain of rubble, Aiden follows his gaze and notices a limb reaching out of the pile. Natasha’s arm.

Aiden hesitates to move. “We should help her.” 

Jason heaves an exasperated sigh, “You want to help her after putting her through that?”

“I just wanted to slow her down, not _seriously_ injure her.”

He holds Jason's gaze.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that when you chose your approach. I had it under control.” Jason shifts out from under Aiden’s arm. His words weigh heavily on the younger man.

Aiden watches him pull off the mountain of rubble one piece at a time. When Jason’s sure there’s only a layer of rocks left keeping Natasha’s body pinned, he stands upright. “Happy?”

Aiden slowly nods, “Yeah. Thanks for doing that.” He would've done it himself.

He studies the red helmet when the realization finally dawns on him. They've always been somehow drawn to one another. Aiden and Jason have been doing this dance even as their alter-egos. If that had also been at the hand of their soulmate-bond, Aiden suppresses a shudder. Was this all predetermined by something or complete coincidence?

Following a gush of wind, a mesh of red and gold blurs across his eyes and Jason's gone. A resounding crash sounds from the end of the room and Aiden turns to find Iron Man holding Jason up against the wall by the collar of his jacket. The force of the impact creating a crack along the surface of the cement blocks behind his body.

Before he could react, he’s shoved into the ground with his wrists against his back. A cold hard grip restricting his wrists as a pair of heavy hand-cuffs take its place. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Hulk makes easy work of pulling Natasha out of the debris. She remains unconscious with burns through the legs of her body suit.

“Now, I don’t know what the _fuck_ you were thinkin' but it better not be what _I'm_ thinkin'.” Bucky’s voice is close, hot breath against the shell of his ear.

Aiden looks caught.

"Buck." 

"Not fucking now, Steve." He snaps, yanking Aiden up onto his knees. "I'm gonna' have a few words with him first before Shield can."

When Aiden looks over his shoulder, Bucky is watching him. He looks shaken, but is controlling it.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually try to keep to a 2-week update, but it's been little over a month since the last. Will try to keep updates at max posted within a month of the last. I'm also in the mood for a little self-reflection and I have to say that for a story that takes place in a universe (between DC/Marvel) I'm totally crap at writing action sequences. But you've probably realized that at this point 
> 
> Literally, I don't know what happens when you shoot a boiler, don't know how big is the explosion radius and stuff. Everything that happens, happens because-- plot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been apprehended. The Avengers are somewhat divided on how to handle the situation, lucky for them, they won't have to. Jason and Aiden are making use of their time locked-up to digest their new 'soulmate-sense'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *heaves over my knees* I got here with an update just in time to meet the one month mark.  
> typos to be expected. Probably will take the next few days after posting to go through the chapter and correct any problematic areas lol

 

"You wanna’ tell me when you and Hood had a moment to get chummy?”

The sternness in Bucky's voice was enough to keep him frozen in spot. Aiden eyes the silhouette of two armed-guards standing outside the frosted door, the only means of entering and exiting the room.

Aiden can still taste the tang of blood on his lips and the warm throbbing of his face of a bruise forming over his eye underneath his bandage. He turns to see Bucky’s back facing him, Aiden is still shackled at his wrists.

To the younger man’s responding silence, Bucky immediately whips around and squeezes Aiden's cheeks together as he forces the boy to look up into the anger swirling in the greys that made his eyes. Aiden winces, a sharp pain shoots through the side of his face.

"You’re fucking  _lucky_  Natasha wasn’t seriously injured.” The grip on his cheeks tighten, "How about you give me your side of what happened?"

"Something’s already telling me you have an idea.” He grounds out through his teeth.

Bucky is struck silent, but he does release some of the pressure on Aiden’s cheeks, disbelief masking over the anger contorting his face. He quickly pulls back his hand, a horrible thought crossing his mind. He closes his eyes, reluctant to even consider the possibility.

"Don’t tell me that you _meant_ to do that to Natasha.”

“Not like that. But I did do it to slow her down.”

The pit of Bucky’s stomach drops out and he can’t bear to look at Aiden.

“Shield will lock you up.” The prospect makes Aiden feel so tired and yet he knows, at this rate, it’s his fate. “Y'might not be gettin' the Raft but gettin' them to trust you again?” Bucky scoffs.

Aiden reaches for Bucky’s bicep, his other hand following in the movement and they both fall silent. He takes it as a good sign when Bucky doesn’t immediately pull away, only eyeing him warily from over his shoulder. Aiden stifles his initial confession of a possible conspiracy and says, “There’s something bigger going on.” His eyes shift to a camera in the corner of the room. "I don't think we're safe."

He pulls his hands back in front of him, eyes now downcast. Bucky watches him for a beat, but Aiden doesn’t look up. Under this, Bucky is getting more worried.

"What are you talkin' about?"

Fury followed by the rest of the Avengers and a few armed Shield agents, enters the room, interrupting any opportunity for Aiden to answer. He marches grimly for the top of the conference table with hands behind his back. The Shield agents flank Aiden’s sides, everyone takes a seat.

Aiden looks at Bucky. He wants to tell him—tell them all. But he can’t even begin to verify where their loyalties truly lie. Bucky is the last to sit, reluctant to at first.

"Pearce, you've stepped out of the umbrella I've held over this team and into direct sunlight."

Aiden glances to the end of the conference table and finds Clint staring intently at him. Had been for longer than Aiden realizes.  Vaguely aware of his close relationship to Natasha, Aiden wouldn’t put it past him to use a picture of himself to help in target practice. Brushing over Tony and Steve, Steve is much too focused on Fury and Tony is turned in on himself, not even fiddling with his phone.

"Your recent mission performance has come under considerable scrutiny due to your questionable actions." Fury says just as he turns his attention to Bucky. "Sergeant Barnes, as the person who is supposed to look after  _and_  educate your student, would you like to add anything onto today's assessment?"

"There was a lapse in judgement for the task at hand. Aiden was unfit to carry out orders in the best interest of the team."

"Tell me Barnes, do these results call for disciplinary action?"

Bucky inhales deeply, "Aiden should be disciplined accordingly." This clearly has an appeal for Fury.

"I couldn't agree more." Fury says, eyes moving over the table towards Aiden’s direction. “With that being said, he’ll be back at Shield headquarters in Washington under strict surveillance for further deliberation.”

Aiden picks up his head at the suggestion, meeting Fury's hard stare with a steady gaze. He rolls his shoulders back, standing a bit straighter.

"Speak Pearce. You look like you have something you'd like to add."

"Sir, with all due respect-" Steve abruptly stands out of his seat.

"Rogers, we all know that sentence rarely ever follows with anything remotely respectful-"

"I feel the need to point out that the cause of Aiden's actions are still unclear." Steve's eyes flicker briefly down at the table before meeting Aiden's own. His face somber. "This is not to say this would lessen the consequences of his actions, but to suggest his departure from the group seems too radical without hearing what he has to say."

Fury doesn’t blink. “Because of what happened, you  _lost_  the female warrior  _and_   Superman clone.” He inclines his head forward, “Agent Romanov was left injured and unconscious. Now if you’re telling me we haven’t given the boy enough chances to explain himself, I’d suggest you reassess how well you know your teammate, Captain."

"Take the shackles off of him, leave him with us for five minutes."

"He's no longer under Sergeant Barnes' or the Avenger's supervision. He's back to being Shield's responsibility and will be handled accordingly to Shield standard procedures." 

It's clear to everyone in the room that Fury didn't intend to listen to any opinions that didn't align with his own. At other times, Tony would have difficulty remaining calm, insist he had other places to be, and to e-mail him if anything should personally concern him. In the seat beside Steve, he wears his tinted sunglasses high on the bridge of his nose, eyes inscrutable, lips pursed. Steve's beginning to think that Tony, for once,  _agrees_ with Fury.

When Steve notices Fury begin to move, he breaks away from his seat and walks toward him. Fury goes to brush past the super soldier, but he gets in the way. Genuine. Stubborn righteousness in his posture.

Now standing nearly toe-to-toe, Fury appraises him. 

"I suggest you pick you next words carefully, Captain."

"Steve."

Disappointment and a simmering pit of anger, not towards Aiden, but directing to himself. Bucky struggles with his emotion, tries to keep it at bay to diffuse the tension in the air.

"Aiden won't talk and we can't make him." 

Steve stares at his best friend, genuinely sympathetic and wishes he could respect that, but knows he can’t find it in himself to. Fury takes the moment to continue on his path out of the room. The guards at Aiden’s sides shove him towards the exit and he begins to walk. Once Aiden’s been escorted out of the room, the tension doesn’t leave with him.

Tony hears his throat click as he swallows in the silence left in Aiden's wake. He has an urge to roll his eyes, crack a joke and deflect on the gravity of the situation and he surrenders to it. He pushes himself out of his chair and claps his hands once.

“Well, that’s that. Let’s get going everyone. Natasha’s getting transported back to the tower by the end of the day and I’m hungry.”

“ _Tony_.”

Tony’s lips twitch, can’t quite find the energy to counter Steve’s honest-to-good intentions (it’s like he had no design on his virtue whatsoever). He should’ve ran after Fury; Steve wouldn’t have followed. But then Tony would be alone with Fury and he still didn’t like Fury despite this minor agreement he silently had with him.

“ _Whatever_ happened, Aiden and the other guy were planning on _eloping_ after leaving Romanov like that. _That_ should bother you more.”

“Have to say, I agree with Stark on this one.” Clint unhelpfully chimes in, folding his arms on the table. “He hurt Nat intentionally and that’s enough for me to forget about that guy.”

Bucky arches a brow to the side, “Something’s going on, we've been around Aiden long enough to know that making decisions isn't his strong-suit.”

"That's a pretty fine line you're dancing on, Barnes. Use that in his defense and it may suggest that he could've been planning it for a while."

"Clint-"

“--And _so what_ if something’s going on? If the kid doesn’t tell us _what_ , we can’t do anything for him, we can’t try to understand why he would’ve left with some criminal.” Tony turns his back on the table and on the conversation, sauntering towards the exit. “If anybody needs me, I’ll be back at the tower.”

 

-

 

Their arrangement is understandably different today. Dr. Sauvage made the trip to Shield headquarters to keep with their monthly appointment (and if that monthly appointment is bumped up from the end of the month, Aiden doesn't comment on it). It’s been a few days since Aiden’s been taken into Shield custody, he hasn’t seen Jason or heard word of him. He sits in a room of transparent walls in handcuffs and shackles, an empty chair on the other side of the table. Dr. Sauvage stands outside the room, a buzz opens the door and he enters, unbuttoning his blazer as he settles in the chair opposite to him.

"Hello, Aiden. How are you?"

"Been better." 

"I was taken aback when I was informed of your circumstances. Would you like to talk about what happened?"

"Sorry about that."

“It’s no trouble I assure you. Washington is home to many worthwhile monuments I've been meaning to visit.” Levi studies him for a moment, then, “Given your new living arrangements, how has your sleep been?”

"I get a couple hours, here and there. Not the biggest fan of sleep, lately."

"I can only imagine. Is your bed not comfortable?"

Aiden stares at Levi, long and slow. Then he draws his hands back onto his lap, shackle chains rattling on the table “The nightmares they’re spilling into reality.”

Levi tilts his head slightly, crossing his legs under the table and interlacing his fingers in his lap. "You've neglected to mention any nightmares throughout our appointments. Tell me, what do these nightmares usually consist of?"

Aiden lowers his voice as he says, "Noises, dialogues in different languages, all overlapping."

Levi leans into the table to better hear as Aiden’s volume is but a whisper.

"Then a burst of cold through my body." Aiden's stomach starts to twist.  "They've stopped shortly after our first meeting. If the dreams persisted, I would've brought it up." They’ve stopped because Jason took their place.

Staring at Aiden, Levi appears displeased by the confession. "Traveling through the multi-verse is a traumatic experience for a young man. A certain level of PTSD is to be expected."

Aiden considers that, then averts his eyes.

"I'm fully aware that aside from Sergeant Barnes, your background report was made incredibly vague for the rest of the members of your team. Which may or may not help with earning their trust. Tell me, have you given up on returning to the universe you belong to?"

"I was told that Shield didn't possess the tech or intelligence to trace me back to the part of the multi-verse I came from."

Since the alien invasion a few years ago, Shield’s been keeping close tabs on the influence the giant hole that ripped through the universe has had on the population. New heroes springing out of thin air and anomalies like him that are pulled out of their universe and into another. Documentation and an identity could’ve been easily fabricated for him to start a new life with Shield’s resources but it was easier to monitor him if he was one of their own.

"A gift with no receipt. You can't be returned." Levi studies the ugly mess of blacks and blues on the side of Aiden’s face, emotions unreadable.  “The Avengers had potential to become a family to you.  Is it truly wise to not disclose your reasoning for putting Agent Romanov in a hospital bed?”

Aiden leans back in his seat, head hanging between his shoulder blades and staring at the ceiling, contemplating his choices and the undercurrent of emotions that’ve been brimming over the edge of the bond since being separated from Jason. The separation from the Avengers should’ve gave him time to try and collect his thoughts, but the bond clouds his judgement. A random thought could somehow evolve into a curiosity of whether a stray touch between him and Jason would do enough to lower the need bubbling up beneath.  Then it would escalate into what kind of touches would be appropriate or how textured Jason’s hand would feel against his skin.

There’s a part of him, an _insignificantly small_ part of him that wants the thoughts to keep going, despite knowing how it’d leave him. But for now, Aiden suppresses that part of himself, burying and compartmentalizing as much as he can to focus on current emotions.

Aiden isn’t sure what he’s more afraid of, trusting Jason and he being wrong or trusting Jason and he being right about this potential ‘family’.

 

-

Natasha’s body lies still. Immediately after the mission, they brought her to the Shield med-bay where much of the injuries were treated. Once Natasha stabilized, they moved her to the med-bay stationed at the tower. Bruce Banner informs them all that it may take a few days for her to regain consciousness. Bucky stares, as if waiting for her to wake back up. She doesn’t just yet.  The only sounds in the room is the steady blip’s of her EKG trace, the green line pulsing Natasha’s life as an electronic signal. He’s seen the burns on her calves and absently wonders if she’d also take shorts out of her wardrobes just as she did with bikinis given the scar he gave her decades ago.

Bucky stands just before the windows, hands in his sweatpants pockets. The sky is taken by clouds without the Sun in sight makes it gloomy. When the door opens, Natasha stirs and Bucky turns away from the windows to approach the bed. It takes him a moment to acknowledge Clint who now stood beside him, both of them waiting in anticipation for Natasha to notice them.

“Hey, Nat. Knew you wouldn’t die so easily.”

Clint stares down at Natasha, she looks back, melancholy.

Natasha shakes her head. Her initial response becoming a cough she struggles to control. Clint immediately offers her a cup of water, she draws a breath before drinking.

“If Budapest couldn’t kill me, this wouldn’t.”

“Right, how could I forget.” He smiles, resting his hand just over her wrist to avoid the many wires hooked into her.

Her eyes drift to Bucky, he stands a bit further away watching their exchange like an outsider. Having just woke up, she's already aware of why he was there. Just by the state of his appearance, Natasha can tell he's been camping out in the room for longer than necessary. An assortment of manila folders layered against the window, a thin blanket hung over the adjacent chair. Barnes had taken to technology like a fish to water with enthusiasm but still preferred the weight of printed files in his hands. Exhaustion had a way of making Bucky look more hardened and war-heavy, one of the few moments where his actual age shows through the effects of the super soldier serum.

"Aiden and the Red Hood?"

"They're both under surveillance at Shield."

Natasha slow blinks, eyes averting to the foot of her bed. “You’re here to ask me what happened. That must mean Aiden isn’t talking.”

“No, he’s not talking to anyone. They’re hoping by keeping with his schedule with his psychiatrist it’d ease him into confessing.”

“There was a familiarity there," She says, carefully before clarifying, "between them.”

It’s a strange cocktail of betrayal and clarity. Even now, Natasha struggles coming to terms with what happened at the bunker. Yet, it feels like everything that occurred at the bunker was what they should've been seeing all along. There still was a thin veil of fog covering the finer details of the memory because of the drugs they've got swimming through her system, but she's sure in a few days’ time, she'll be able to revisit the memory and find what she's looking for. Bucky studies her, genuinely sympathetic, but knows he also stayed in the med-bay for the truth.

“Can you explain what happened?”

Natasha only stares back up at him, it's enough for Bucky to hear 'yes'.

 

-

 

Jason without his Hood, his arsenal and leather jacket, sits at the center of his cell, regarding the sorry-excuse of food in his tray with distaste. There was a bunk bed and an open toilet. It tells him to get comfortable a new home  to both live in and wear him down. The metal wrapped firmly around his wrists and ankles weren't a foreign sensation, it's actually strangely nostalgic. Jason doesn't remember the last time he was confined to a cell since Arkham Aslyum. Even then, his living arrangements were significantly better.

His departure from the prison that was Arkham Aslyum didn’t necessarily free him. Jason’s been his own prison since the very moment he’d been resurrected. He’s always been his own warden, keeping himself in line. Suddenly having a new inmate in this prison, makes it less lonely, less like a prison. His right hand catches his attention, his knuckles reddened by the abuse hes inflicted upon them. Jason stares down at it morosely. The rhythm of his breath rises and falls in his ears, and in the distance, he can hear an argument growing somewhere down the corridor. He doesn’t look up at first, but feels himself being watched.

"Like what you see?" 

The Winter Soldier stands outside Jason’s cell in the shadows between his cell and the next. Jason believes he's more intent on grimly staring at him through long stray strands of brunette hair than talk. He’s felt his watchful eyes from the shadows for more than a few minutes now. It was beginning to get creepy.

The bond gave way to small waves of emotions like a sixth sense.  He's been using the last few minutes of the Winter Soldier's silence to sort out the unfamiliar feelings and try to read them for what they were; Aiden's emotions at this moment. Anticipation and trepidation were the ones closest to the surface. There was a decision to be made. Jason has been weighing the current effects of a full-fledged bond with his previous expectations. He's stopped trying to ignore the light pulse of heat at the back of his neck for a while now. He knows what's there without needing to see it. It'll be Aiden's name in his penmanship and Jason doesn't know how to feel about that yet.

"Listen, I’m not here for small talk."

“It speaks.”

“What were you planning to do with the information you found at the bunker?”

“Find out what all the excitement over it was about.”

Jason’s group wasn’t overly invested in the hydra-government conspiracies which is why he kept a loose leash on Aiden. He assumed that because Bruce was already invested enough to make Nightwing keep tabs, Jason would  keep to his surveillance of armed gangs and illegal thug-antics by the pier of Gotham. Walking the straight and narrow on Bruce’s terms was easier when their work didn’t overlap.  The last thing he needed was a pointy-eared shadow casted over himself at every corner of the inner-city.

To think that the highly-guarded car he was following would lead him into a bigger mess, made him simultaneously energized and annoyed.  He thought it was strange that the weapons were transported in what looked more like the Macy’s day Parade rather than the usual discreet unmarked vehicles. The bunker located on the edge of New York meant that he was out of the Bat’s jurisdiction and he could play the game the way he liked.  Jason easily swept through a handful of suits without breaking a sweat. The one’s that managed to bypass immediate death, he’d tried questioning them because one, there were no physical weapons and two, they reeled them all the way to New York for an empty lab. It didn't make sense.

Threatening to load those guys up with lead didn’t have the same effect it usually did on Gotham skeeves. They killed themselves with a sense of pride that unnerved Jason, taking the excitement out of the whole moment.

“Situations changed and it looks like I’m siding with the good guys on this one.”

"How does that work when you're the criminal?” Bucky comes closer, quieter, almost leaning on the bars of his cells as he speaks. “I’ve read your file. Early affiliations with Gotham’s infamous Black Mask. Arkham Aslyum for a period of time, then Gotham Prison—Strange how during your stay the suicide rate coincidentally spiked.”

The Red Hood is an entity that has always been evidently motivated by vengeance, not at all tethered by justice. Behind bars, he appears to be just a man consumed by anger and Bucky senses a rage looming in the background of his violence that gave him the sense he enjoyed it. The man's profile doesn't have anything in common with Aiden's own. Yet, if Natasha did sense a familiarity between them, Bucky speculates that they could've met earlier, possibly during a Shield operation.

  
“You done some homework on me? I'm blushing.” Jason perks up, allowing a brief smirk. “Got your kid tagging along for the ride now, it changes things.”

A fleeting sensation draws his eyes to his right. Beyond the wall, somewhere in that direction he feels Aiden’s emotions beckon his attention. The formed bond was still fresh and Jason couldn’t make sense of the sensations. It’s been difficult to differentiate what he felt from what Aiden was feeling lately.

"Aiden wouldn't betray us like that."

Jason reflects on the statement, biting lightly on his bottom lip to suppress a laugh. If only they had a clue how connected they _really_ were.

“Priorities change, I can’t do anything about that.”

Bucky's brow twitched, the expression on his face stiffening. He didn't visit the guy with expectations in place, but his refusal to even go into details about anything associated with Aiden or the mission makes him feel like he wasted his time. 

"If  _your_ priorities change, let me know and we can talk about it." 

"That'll never happen, but thanks."

He assesses him one last time before leaving. Hours pass and they swap out his tray of food with another freshly processed tray of food. The Shield security guards makes sure to walk past his cell at least twice every hour. Then a food cart drops off food after every eight pass. He passively keeps track of the movements of the staff, beginning to pick up on a pattern. 

There was something new about the bond now that collected a weight of longing and anxiety he's never felt before. He contemplates the urges, finally beginning to understand Aiden’s reluctance to even allow himself to act bonded when they only dreamt with one another. Jason rolls his head, attempting to crack his neck. He rubs the crook of his neck and his fingers move over the name on his nape.

At that, his heart skipped a beat.

The security gate buzzes and it’s to two Shield guards leading a shackled Aiden through the gate and down the hall, using prods attached to a belt around his clothing. Aiden’s eyes immediately meet his gaze and suddenly Jason’s chest felt lighter. The soulmate bond strong, relief flows along the surface. So much water under their bridge. One of the guards opens the adjacent cell and he’s shuffle-walked inside and unshackled. He glances out into the corridor to see several other guards watching the proceedings.

The door mechanism locks shut. Jason finally stands, his knees cracking at the motion and he watches as Aiden walks around his cell, inspecting every corner.  When Aiden returns to his cell bars, he looks at Jason, Jason allows himself to smile.

A choice has been made.

 “Hey, fresh meat.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm a bit later than usual with this update, much apologies. Between hours worth of online course-work and preparing for a convention I went to recently, I haven't been able to properly go through this chapter and edit on an acceptable schedule. (or i couldn't rely on last minute revisions this time b/c overestimate my abilities to remain focused lol)
> 
> chapter disclaimer; i'm not familiar with the healing process of third-degree burns so most of what I put on here is loosely derived from what I find online. I'd assume that even after surgical procedures to grafting skin, the patient would still need to remain under observation, but we're defying standard medical procedures here if i'm wrong
> 
> *whistles* this is the longest chapter I've written so far. not beta-read. thanks for checking out this chapter!

Aiden struggles to process him. With his nightmares re-emerging out of whatever slumber they've been in and interfering with reality, he's felt somewhat out of touch with what's going on around him. It must be the effects of inconsistent sleep patterns, he reasons. He continues to stare, can't begin to understand the meaning behind Jason's smile.

"Didn't think they'd let you show your face."

He looks up, noting the camera perched high on the ceilings outside their cells. After a moment, "They have the whole area bugged."

"Of course they do. Where have you been?"

"Interrogations. Must've not liked what i've been giving them since they've traded my private room to be in here with you now."

"It's not all bad. We have matching shackles and eat microwave chicken sandwiches."

Sleep comes in short intervals. There was no real indication of time aside from what was hinted on the food menu and the dictated 'lights out' schedule. Aiden's lost track of how many days have passed while in captivity. Jason doesn't appear too bothered, but the image doesn't necessarily coincide with what was currently brewing in the bond. An edging raw need for something that confuses Aiden.

Sometimes they talk, nothing that would be especially useful to the walls of ears. They talked enough to satisfy the natural human need for social interaction. Mundane conversations were just about the most entertainment they can have besides attempting to carve random shapes into the walls with their nails. When they didn't talk, Jason found stimulation by performing push-ups, Aiden curled in his bed and tried sleeping the time away, but the lights made it hard to drift completely asleep only allowing him to doze off.

"You look like a guy who has a thing for piercings. Ever got them before?"

They've had a conversation something like this before. Aiden considers his answer before speaking it.

"Yeah, I've had a piercing before. On my lip." He says, "Then I got battered real good during a mission, a few hits ripped it off my lip. After the stitches figured I should retire it."

Jason has to consider that a moment, then, "Probably for the best."

They fall into a comfortable silence for a few long seconds until, "You could've killed me a lot faster if you used your gun during our fight. Maybe you wouldn't be here if you just made a quick escape."  _Maybe we wouldn't have found out who we were._

Jason lifts his head and watches Aiden, bites his tongue. Aiden doesn't look at him, just quietly traces his fingers over the steel bars of his cell.

"You went easy on me." Aiden struggles with this knowledge, a part of him resenting Jason for looking down on his skill-level.

"You're mad at me because I didn't kill you?" 

It's a strange reaction coming from one's own soulmate.

"Why would I waste lead on you? You're weak." Aiden finally meets his gaze, feels the weight of what Jason's telling him hit him. It makes him grip the cell bars, teeth clenched tight. He has more to prove. "Does that piss you off?"

"Yeah, it does."

"Good, it focuses you." Jason says, "You need it since you don't have a natural killer instinct."

Aiden considers that briefly, then turns away, not particularly motivated by Jason's words. 

 

During lights-out, Aiden sleeps on his cot, drenched in sweat. Jason observes the sheen glistening his cheekbones even from the distance between their cells. Even when the lighting is as dim as it was, he can't bring himself to sleep. When he manages, he doesn't quite find it on a cheap uncomfortable mattress.

The floor is dark, partially lit by a cool tinted glow of the LED lights illuminating the empty security station at the end of the hall. Aiden's lost in thought, can't quite make out movement outside his cell. He can't make out Jason through the darkness. It never was this dark during lights-out.

Then, a surreal contextual juxtaposition, Aiden's sitting up on the matted floor of the shared communal gym at Avenger's Tower. He stands and looks at himself through the the wall of mirrors, traces his hand absently over the bruises on his face as he approaches them to closely evaluate the damage.

He feels disoriented and reaches for a nearby surface to help balance himself but now his hand is gloved and grips onto nothing. Fog drifts into his line of vision, when he turns, it's to a Gotham rooftop. The horizon peak an orange hue, it's early morning, the city starting to wake.

A retro-version of both him and Bucky stand opposite to each other. Aiden stands in the deep background, a cool breeze comes but doesn't affect the fog surrounding him. Aiden watches retro-Aiden and retro-Bucky packing up equipment from a stakeout that gone sideways.

As the memory plays through the smoke, retro-Bucky approaches retro-Aiden, a little young and reckless than he is now, nearly a year later.

"Just because I've killed a lot of people doesn't give you the green light to head into a dangerous situation like an idiot to try and impress me."

It's the same reprimand offered. To Aiden's recollection, he got too close to the scene, he'd been spotted and made the impulsive decision to disarm and knock out some men without being quiet. He wanted to make a statement, but it quickly became more than he could handle, the commotion nearly jeopardizing the reason they were there if Bucky didn't interfere when he did.

Retro-Aiden scoffs, busies himself with lifting the duffel off the ground with a wince. He took a rough hit to his shoulder with a pipe. "That wasn't you who killed all those people, though." He says, pointedly ignoring the second-half of the statement.

"You may think jus' 'cause it happened while I was being mind-controlled that makes me different since now, I'm not. But when I wake up every mornin', I'm still the same guy. Maybe to an extent, I've been  _that_  guy all along."

Aiden listens, noting the discernible sadness in retro-Bucky's voice.

"I've seen stupidity get people killed." He reaches and takes the duffel out of retro-Aiden's grasp, he reluctantly lets him. "The last thing I need is a sidekick with no self-preservation."

Retro-Bucky faces away, towards the rooftop exit. Retro-Aiden more or less tries to hide his profound disappointment at his words.

"Then why am I with _you_ to begin with?"

"Shield made you my mission." He says, "They probably think you're meant for more."

Off those words, present-Aiden turns around. He catches a glimpse of a large shadow darting behind the layers of fog. The air drops significantly in temperature, Aiden instinctively goes still. He doesn't tremble or appear afraid, but simply stares, inscrutably into the fog.

The large shadow returns but stands centered in the fog, it stares deeply into Aiden and Aiden is beginning to find it hard to breathe.

Aiden wakes up with a start. He gasps, wincing as he draws air into his rib cage. A sheen sweat on his brow. He takes in his surroundings to find he's curled in on himself, in the same barred cell.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." Aiden's eyes find Jason, sitting against the wall his side pressed against the bars to his cell. A new seat he's taken since Aiden joined him on the floor.

In his shifting, blurring vision, he thinks he confuses the calculating stare for something close to worry. He stares a moment longer waiting for his vision to sharpen, then Jason breaks eye contact first, shifts his gaze to the hands on his lap.

"Anything happen while I was asleep?"

Jason scoffs, "You didn't miss out on much."

 

-

 

Bucky opens his door to his room, leaving for the night, he shrugs on a light coat, Fall weather bringing along a welcomed cool chill to the air during the nights. He shuts off the last of his lights even if he knows Jarvis would do it for him had he asked. 

"You've been spending a lot of time at Shield."

He's surprised to see Natasha, arms crossed against her chest. She's been making use of a wheel chair since moving on from a hospital bed. Now it's a matter of her most recent skin grafting on her lower legs to fully set before she's back on her feet.

"You're the last person I would be expecting to see."

"Maybe not the last."

Bucky smiles sheepishly, then turns to walk into the large open space of the living area, the lights turn on automatically. Natasha follows behind him.

"Is today a holiday I forgot about? Why the surprise visit?"

"You're hoping for something, aren't you."

Bucky stares down the wall of windows, his side of the tower looked towards North of Manhattan, he can see the flashing advertisements on the screens of Times Square.

"Now what makes y'think that? I'm just focusin' more on work." He says, lightly, loftily not appearing at all perturbed by Natasha's prodding. "No rest for the wicked and all that."

"Ever since the mission, Fury hasn't explained what was going on with the dead scientists at the bunkers. We confiscated the information they were handling but he didn't care to mention what those documents pertained to." She pauses, awareness dawning, "You're suspicious."

"Not at all, whatever it is probably's way above our pay-grade." He tosses the keys to his bike in his hand.

"There's a part of you that believes Aiden's onto something." She wonders if she does even as she asks it.

Bucky flinches imperceptibly, but doesn't respond.

Natasha has taken the last few weeks re-assessing the developments leading to, what they dubbed as 'the incident'. She hasn't felt this uncertain in some time. As soon as she had access to her laptop, she requested information on the former young protege only to come up with a relatively clean and bland record. Nothing about it explains why Shield assigned Barnes as his mentor when there were more qualified and skilled agents who'd be honored to be under the tutelage of the Winter Soldier. It takes her a moment to absorb the implications behind the profile being fabricated.

"Or maybe it's just easier to think there's a bigger picture to consider than something like Shield getting their hands on a bad apple." Bucky can't ignore his discomfort at the prospect.

" _Or_ maybe I failed him. Wasn't paying attention as well as I thought and didn't talk to the kid enough." He pauses, "Maybe if I did, I'd see the signs and understand what this is all really about." A part of his mind whispered,  _maybe he would've trusted to tell you what he meant_.

Natasha stares, then proceeds calmly, "Aiden made his choice. What about you?" The question seems almost alien in its simplicity as it hangs in the air. 

Bucky considers saying what Natasha wants to hear or what he wants Natasha to hear, then simply says, "A work in-progress."

It's not a very confident answer for Natasha.

"Have you talked to him since?"

"No, they're not letting anyone see him besides his psychiatrist."

Natasha's mind whirls around the details and the facts, there was something being purposely hidden, she can sense it. Just as she sensed a connection between the Red Hood and Aiden, which went deeper than his trust in the Avengers if it enabled him to turn his back on them that easily. 

-

The moment comes with a kind of electricity buzzing through the air. Aiden fights the overwhelming jitters that makes his foot tap against the ground, unbeknownst to the plan about to unfold.

Jason eats his meals to the last crumbs, Aiden watches him more intently waiting. One last shared look of resolve and Jason falls to his side, before becoming eerily still. Aiden holds his breath, wants to tear his eyes away. He's agitated, unsure of what to do.

A minute passes until there's a buzz, then two armed guards stand observing him through the heavy gauge security cell doors.

"Stand up, Hood." One of them barks, their hands resting on the weapons at their waist. They share a brief glance at one another, he remains unresponsive.

The guard signals down the hall, a buzzer sounds and the cell door slides open. The guards rush into the cell, surrounding the crumpled prisoner and aggressively bark orders at him.

"Raise your hands above your head."

Jason, remains unresponsive, Aiden doesn't remember standing off of the floor. As one guard put a knee to his back, his partner kneels and checks for a pulse.

"What's wrong with him?" None of them spare him a look.

Instead, they call for a gurney. Aiden watches as they escort Jason's gurney down the long passageway, he presses his face into the bars until he could no longer see  beyond the security gate.

It slides shut ominously behind them. Aiden's hand subconsciously rubbed at his nape as he sank back down onto the edge of his bed.

Jason's lying in the gurney being wheeled down a long corridor, oxygen mask now over his mouth and nose, his hands cuffed to the railing. As they push the gurney towards med-bay, the guards that follow now left his side, his life is in the hands of the medics.

The male nurse roughly pushes Jason's shirt up his torso, beginning to attach EKG tab electrodes to his bare chest. Jason's eyes slowly flicker open, clear and focused. His hand slowly reaches for the waist band of his pants, clip that once hung in the key loop of one of the armed guards before they maneuvered him onto the gurdey. He quickly jams unfolds it and jams it into the cuffs keyhole.

The male nurse is unaware of Jason who slowly rises from the gurney behind him, he focuses on preparing the EKG. When he hears the heart monitor flat-line, he turns and before he can act, Jason descends on him, knocking him out.

He makes swift action stripping and switching into the male nurse's clothes. Jason navigates through the hallways otherwise undetected. When a Shield guard passes him, Jason bodily throws himself into him and forces them both into a nearby supply closet. He beats him unconscious then proceeds to change into the clothes.

Minutes later an alarm begins to blare throughout the building, followed by an intercom announcement informing everyone of his escape. Jason pulls down the Shield cap a little lower over his face and leaves the closet. For once, he had to be smart about his next moves, it would be easier to move around if he blended in.

 

-

 

Once the alarms were triggered, the lights in the security corridor switch off, the back-up generator to the building changing the hues of the lighting to a deep red. To Aiden, it felt a lot like the beginnings of a horror movie and the worst part of it was, he was a sitting duck. When he approaches the bars of his cells, he presses his face into the surface, managing to make out a few security guards at the end of the hall arming themselves with handguns.

Then, something or someone from beyond Aiden's view pulls their attention away from assembling their weapons. They draw their weapons, but at the raise of the handgun, they're shot to the ground. From where he was, Aiden can't make out whether the shots were life-threatening. A Shield Agent, fully dressed in tactical combat uniform approaches the security station console, but he's fiddling with something hidden before the latch to his door begins sliding his door open. 

Aiden steps back, suspicious of the opportunity of escape. Even if he does choose to run, he's not familiar with the lower floors of the building. He'll run into problems he's unprepared for. Outside of his cell, he overhears the dull thuds of boots walking, the sounds growing nearer as his savior coming to greet him. The stranger slowly comes to stand outside his cell, opposite of him and watch him impassively behind the tinted helmet screen, silhouetted by the red light.

"Don't tell me I went through all this work and you're not even going to try and escape." They speak, muffled. The helmet is then pulled off, revealing Jason Todd smiling in triumph.

Aiden holds his gaze, the smile distracting him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? We have better places to be." He tosses the helmet at Aiden who fumbles with it in his arms when he catches it. "Now, c'mon. I've already sent my friends our location. We just have to get up to the roof."

Aiden nods his head, barely aware that he's doing it. 

When they pass by the security console for the last time, Jason takes the Red Hood and slips it over his head. Aiden stocks himself with the loaded guns as he follows behind Jason. The first few levels were relatively easy to make it through, but the amount of arms guards they do encounter later forces them both to go different ways. 

"I'll give you 10 mins, Pearce. Don't be late or else you're finding your own way out."

 

-

 

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Bucky's voice thunders through the chaos.

Aiden can't find his words, settles for making a run for it so he won't have to. He could try to lose Bucky. But its as if something in his stance gives his plan away and Bucky lunges for him before he can commit to a strategy.

The sound around him is dulled, time suddenly feels slow and every movement becoming dreamlike. The light reflecting off of Bucky's mechanical arm dances briefly across Aiden's face when he dodges a left hook. He uses the close contact to reach and grab the sheathed knife Bucky keeps on his leg holster.

Aiden slashes at his mentor with quick swipes, Bucky jackknifes his torso to avoid the blade. He doesn't want to hurt Aiden, not like this, but neither does he want to impaled by his own blade. Aiden lunges the knife at his belly, meaning to gut him.

He blocks the knife with a piece of wooden debris and then smashes it into the side of Aiden's head, knocking him off balance, but not quite down. Using the opportunity, Bucky grabs Aiden and bodily swings him crashing into a transparent wall, the impact enough to make it crack but not shatter.

Aiden then throws his weight back at Bucky, driving him across a few feet, but not far. Bucky had weight and muscle mass, a solid figure. Aiden could never move him far enough in his current state.

Bucky maneuvers his arms around Aiden's throat and begins to squeeze a chokehold with his human hand. Aiden writhes and kicks, trying to throw Bucky off balance, but to no avail.

"What couldn't you tell me?" Bucky growls into his hair. 

Aiden's body goes limp, slumps in Bucky's arms, his legs folding against the ground as Bucky lowers him... just enough for him to reach for a nearby block of cast iron and swings it over his shoulder. He recoils from the surprise impact and stumbles back, hand holding his head.

They hold a look and then Aiden disappears into the elevator, taking it to the highest floor.

Bucky shakes his head, an effort to rid his mind of the cloud surrounding his vision. The serum should be working to heal the damage, but he has to relax, he won't chase after Aiden. But this had less to do with the injury and more to do with wanting to believe Aiden's right.

A padding of feet from down the hall draws his attention off the small droplets of blood that were smeared over his palm.

Clint.

His face goes pale as he quickly approaches him. "Shield sent out a distress call for people in the area to report in for an emergency. What's going on?"

"Aiden and Hood. They're trying to escape."

"Did you see them?" Clint looks around, pulls out his phone, his thumb moves across the screen briskly before shoving the device back into his pocket.

He scoffs. "Wouldn't look like this if i didn't."

When the answer clicks, a huge simple anger washes over him. Clint doesn't allow the emotion to soak for more than a moment, he needed to direct his attention to catching them. Clint needed to remain calm. A wavering aim won't bring Aiden or the Red Hood to justice.

"You should've killed him." He says, "He would've killed you if he had the chance."

"Aiden wouldn't kill me. That's why he left me instead."

Clint sighs, truly disappointed to see Bucky Barnes resigning to defeat. "Or maybe you let him go knowing you  _could_  kill him."

Bucky glances up at him, Clint's counting the amount of arrows he has on hand. "I, on the other hand, am not so forgiving. Are you going to tell me where he went?"

He looks from Clint's eyes to the elevator, on the panel above reads forty-eight, the highest floor in the building and where the elevator was currently idling at. Clint can put two and two together.

Aiden takes the stairs three at a time once exiting the elevator. When he reaches the roof, it's to the loud ringing of ammunition being released, an arms fight and Jason is outnumbered. Despite this, the man doesn't appear any less confident. Aiden can't feel fear but he does feel excitement, which may be the only thing about this spontaneous operation that's keeping him motivated to see it through.

That and because he doesn't want to get the Raft.

He leans out far enough to count the remainder of Shield agents battling Jason on the rooftop, a total of five. Aiden engages once one is close enough to take from behind in surprise. He quickly moves across the rooftop to the next nearest agent, when she is hidden behind a generator, reloading her gun. With the numbers of agents disappearing off their side of the fight, Jason renders the remainder unconscious. With bullet wounds but otherwise in one-piece.

 

Jason easily yanks Aiden off the building edge by the back of his collar without struggle. Almost seeming as though the boy reconciled with the thought that of course this was how he was leaving the Avengers.

During the leap for the rescue chopper, all sound becomes dulled. The pulsing propellers thrummed against the sounds of Aiden's rhythmic breathing and thudding heart in his ears. 

Clint comes running onto the rooftop, easily recognizing them in the air and draws his bow and arrow, aimed in their direction. The arrow is released, and for a brief moment it appears it won't make the distance against the trajectory of the wind. But it remains on path and Aiden quickly urges Jason to climb into the helicopter.

Once it approaches, Aiden recognizes the design to be a creation of Tony's and doesn't know what to expect when it catches onto the suspended rope. It explodes and creates a fire that begins to travel up the rope. Aiden's shoulder pulls painfully while he's following behind Jason. The flames eat away quick at the rope material despite the gust speed of the wind, it an unnatural heat cooking the bottom of one of Aiden's shoes. He kick it off and continues maneuvering himself up  into the chopper.

Once Aiden climbs into the chopper, he lays on his side, chest rising and falling trying to catch his breath. Jason uses a knife to saw off the rope that connected it to the chopper. The damage from his fight with Bucky finally beating the adrenaline coursing under his skin. His eyelids flutter and pinch as he tries to stay focused on Jason now leaning into the cockpit, speaking words indiscernible to Aiden through the noise.

His vision tunnels and Jason grows more distant. The sky unnaturally darkens around them as they continue through the sky, the instant onset of night and this darkness becomes the shadowy interior of Aiden's room in their Gotham apartment. He must've fallen unconscious.

Chills travel down his arms, the room is cold but there is no source to the drop in temperature. He holds his breath, eyes searching the room. Something was off in this place he knew so well. A creak from outside his door catches his attention, a shadow moves beyond his door and Aiden strains to leave the bed to investigate.

A branch snaps from beside him and he jerks around, no longer in his room but standing in a forest overlooking an empty road. He barely breathes, listening. Is he being hunted or is he waiting for something? A tense, terrifying beat. Nothing. Only the night.

In the dark, he hears noises, is someone tracking his movements? Then another snap. Aiden is unaware of the over-looker who watches him from amid the branches, as he moves along the ground below towards the road— a lost adventurer.

For a moment, he stands on the middle of the road, quietly. Aiden can't help but feel another presence.

посмотреть.

He whirls around at the sound of the voice, an indistinct figure stepping from the shadows. Now standing with him on even ground. Ghostly, large and ethereal under the looming trees and moonlight. Despite the distance, the voice filters through his ears close and personal.

Разве ты не видишь? It growls.

Aiden can't understand.

"What are you?"

The beast snarls, dropping forward from its hind legs. The minimal lighting afforded the brief sight of what resembled a bear and an angry one at that.

He's startled out of the dream with a jerk. His heart thudding in his ears, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. An empty chair positioned by the foot of the bed, he carefully sits up, swings his legs over the edge one at a time. Sitting quietly, his eyes follow the shapes of the room, allowing himself to scan his surroundings. The most recent events he can remember slowly flooding back into his mind; the escape, his fight with Bucky, Clint on the roof, then the climb into the chopper.

Aiden surveys the floor outside of the room. The property is a large square footage encompassing many rooms, much with the same similar features of concealed windows and makeshift furniture that appeared well-used. An open door down the hall catches his attention, stacks of boxes and a line of computer monitors at an empty desk.

The air is perfectly still, his footsteps make nearly no noise. He approaches the room cautiously once realizing he's been there before. It's the room where he and Jason had their first dream-share. Aiden pauses as he reaches the desk, stares down at it in silence as if he were back in the dream-share, six months before where this all began. The only bit of natural light allowed into the space comes from the cracks between boarded windows. Thin streaks of sun strike him across his eyes, he squints. The room looked significantly more different when it wasn't shrouded in darkness.

Jason watches Aiden from his seat at the open table in the corner, taking him in. Aiden senses his gaze and meets his eyes, he walks to Jason.

"Enjoy your sleep? You passed out on the way here." A smile between them and a tension.

Aiden quietly acknowledges that the last time he had a chance at quality sleep was probably when Jason still was only a dream to him.

"How long has it been?"

"Just over a day." He says, "If you were hurt, you should've said something. Artemis helped fixed you up but we're not exactly doctors around here."

"Where is here?"

"Not in Washington or New York."

"Back in Gotham?"

"The best place to be."

Aiden hesitates, assimilating this information. Then on Jason, not in Red Hood gear but civilian attire. A kind of tightness takes hold of his throat, then the sudden soulmate-revelation comes and he quickly averts his attention elsewhere. There were more pressing matters.

"What's the plan now?"

On the wall, Aiden hovers over a case-board bearing several photos of white-collared men and women. Jason must've identified as suspicious. It also includes the timeline of their respective out-of-country trips over the last few years, the length of stay, and a map of pin-points Aiden recognizes to be where each war-bunker Bucky was investigating were located. The recent war bunker they've visited hasn't been pinned yet. Aiden reaches into a nearby box of pins and push-pins into the map the location.

"We find out how far down the rabbit hole this goes."

The weight of that gives Aiden pause.

"What can I do?"

Jason hands him a tablet. In it held over a dozen case files when Aiden scrolls through it. Under his watchful eye, Jason's around when Aiden dozed off through the material hours later. Minutes into sleep he twists and turns, an unpleasant expression on his sleeping face, Jason watches now out of curiosity. He recognizes a nightmare when he sees one and takes note that Aiden has a bad habit of having many of them.

Quietly, he approaches Aiden and places his hand over his exposed name, engraved into the skin of his neck. He's half-expecting the contact to wake the boy up but the pinched expression smooths out, the tension in his body releasing. Jason watches with something approaching a smile and finds himself between a little fascinated and creeped out.

The clearing of a throat flinches him out of his inner musings, he pulls away his hand and shoves it into his pocket. Artemis stands in the open doorway, a smug smile in shameless view. They move their conversation into another room.

"How is he doing?"

"He's doing what he can to be helpful. What did you find?"

For the better part of the night, Artemis and Bizarro tracked down another mock weapons exchange, leading them to another war bunker towards Michigan. They didn't interfere with the sweep, continued to pursue the unidentified vehicles back to Washington where the trail goes cold. But Jason can already guess where the vehicles end up at.

Her eyes soften, "How are  _you_  doing?"

"Great."

"How are you doing with  _him_  around?" She clarifies, grin stretching from ear to ear.

Jason chews on that question, then, "He just woke up a few hours ago, alright? To tell you the truth, it doesn't feel that different."

Artemis isn't truly convinced, but relents for the time being. She leads Jason to the kitchen where Bizarro digs his hand into a box of cereal for breakfast, fiddling with a large hole in his red cape in his other hand. They all share a small meal together, filling the air with possible next moves. Bizarro eases into a nap when their talks lead to the living area couch.

A few hours have passed and Artemis follows Jason back to the research room to find Aiden awake and focused on the material he has already laid out.

"Hey." He says, distracted between the pin-up board and the tablet in his hand. His mind was currently whirling around the details and facts he's been soaking in for the last couple of hours.

Aiden feels ignited by a burst of energy once finding the evidence that it's beginning not to seem impossible. While it's not something to be particularly excited about, all Aiden has to find out now is whether the Avengers are actively involved.

"Yeah, hey." Aiden stands facing away from them, Jason studies him, "You're not hungry? "

"You guys got a lot of information, at least more than I can remember ever being shown to  me. I wanted to catch up on what I've missed."

"We're not the only ones working the case."

Aiden considers the possibilities, but allows his silence to coax more out of Jason before throwing names in the air.

"It's also on the Bat's radar."

" _The_  Batman?" Aiden tears his attention away from the papers hes sprawled out on the table. He finally notices Artemis, who watches their conversation in curious amusement.

Jason is disturbed by the way Aiden's eyes light up at the prospect, the first burst of real energy filling his voice since he's woken up. He's honest-to-God hoping he wasn't a fanboy to the caped crusader because he'll be sure to rain on the guy's parade at this rate.

Artemis then steps towards Aiden, offering a hand, "Hello, I'm Artemis of Bana-Mighdall and you're Jason's destined one. He's spoken a lot about you."

Aiden stares down at her hand, taking it in confusion he directs his puzzlement to Jason, "Destined one?"

Jason wipes a hand over his face, "Apparently 'soulmate' is an archaic term to Amazons."

"Huh." Aiden turns back to the woman and studies the Amazon, seeing genuine interest. "Just Aiden's cool. Pleasure to meet you."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden's nightmares only get worse and Artemis keeps him under a watchful eye. Jason is not the least bit happy to find out the severity of those nightmares. Intentions are assessed and emotions lead to impulsive decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, you probably thought you'd never see an update for this story ever again-- but alas, I return with a new chapter before the end of 2019. I'm sure you're familiar with the spiel; things suddenly gotten busy IRL, a new job, the onset of the holidays and the constant revising/editing being done to this story BTS has kept me from updating.
> 
> Regarding chapter 13, I may just cut it out of the immediate storyline and upload that epilogue separately since reviewing the draft of it has me finally noticing that its excessive length is enough to warrant its own separate story. So, if you notice the amount of chapters shortens from 13 to 12 in the near future, you now know why.
> 
> Happy holidays!

The sight of him surprises Artemis on her way to the kitchen. Nearing 6AM, she tends to start the day just before dawn breaks. A routine that's deeply engraved in her internal clock. Aiden's eyes are glassy and vacant. He's sits on the couch with his knees hugged against his chest in his boxers and a gray t-shirt, staring at something beyond the wall. Artemis observes him longer, realizing he doesn't notice her before choosing to flick on the lights.

Instinctively, Aiden holds up his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden glare of the bright and warm ceiling lights.

"Are you okay?"

"What?"

"You're not in your bed. When did you come out here?"

"I don't know."

"Are you hungry?"

He presses the corners of his eyes. "Tired."

"Want me to make you a cup of coffee?"

"Okay."

Artemis wears a bathrobe over mismatching workout apparel, her red hair damp from having just finished a morning shower.

She sets down a cup of coffee in front of Aiden and allows him the opportunity to take his first sip of caffeine, then, "Do you know you sleep-walk?"

They're both now sitting at the kitchen table. The rest of the hide-out in silence except for the low hum coming from the refrigerator.

Aiden averts his eyes down to the black coffee in front of him, "It doesn't even feel like I'm awake now."

If Aiden had a history of sleep-walking, Bucky neglected to inform him of any of it. There's several ways he could try and rationalize it, but the clearest and constant variable seems to be the bear-like creature.

"Do I do anything  _strange_  besides whatever I do?"

"I've only came across you a few times. Mostly standing outside your room, this is the first time you've made your way to the couch."

The heat radiating off of the ceramic cup warms his hands. Aiden is unblinking as a calm terror begins to seep into him. If he's traveling more while sleep-walking, he could get himself killed or compromise the group's location. Artemis picks up on the weight of tension filling the air between them, she reaches out and rests a hand over Aiden's wrist. It makes him flinch, eyes snapping up to meet hers.

Aiden was weary of the Amazon upon the first few days he'd been taken in by Jason's group. It was a period of time where he remained on edge, consistently reevaluating his choices. Their group dynamics were different from what he had with Barnes or the Avengers. 

Artemis of Bana-Mighdall was as much of an outlaw as Jason and Bizarro in the current superhero-climate. She's aspired for greatness but faced rejection and left her home in pursuit of the Bow of Ra. That was as much as Aiden was able to gather from the ambiguous explanation Jason offered him.

"How have you've been adjusting? As an Amazon, we don't have soulmates per se. But I've heard it to be quite the influence over man. "

Aiden goes still. A quiet moment as he curbs his emotions. He may have desired a shift in the conversation topic, but not towards this direction. His relationship with Jason was obtuse in the way that the bond urges him to seek proximity, trying to be near Jason while his sheer stubbornness discouraged him from directly interacting or relating to him.

"It's distracting. Jason knows I'm not the biggest fan of it."

"He does." Artemis agrees, taking a long sip from her own cup. "But just as I've reminded him, there's a reason why you're one another's soulmates. Maybe giving into it a bit would make it easier on your sleeping habits."

If Aiden had been chewing on something, he would have choked. "You think I'm sleep-walking because I don't give into the bond?" 

"It's a possibility."

He does his best to hide any visible tells that meant he was considering the prospect, steadying himself. There's a limited amount of resources available of bonds on the verge of breaking. It seemed that most people preferred maintaining the bond rather than enduring the aftermath of a broken bond.

"I'll work on that. But it won't happen over night."

"I can keep an eye out, but you're going to be the only one who can feel what's coming on."

Aiden isn't so sure that's how sleep-walking works, but lets the conversation end there. 

 

-

 

Jason snaps his fingers to get Aiden's attention. "Where's your head at?"

Aiden shakes his head out of the haze he'd been in and lifts up his goggles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"No one told me what we're doing here."

A moody evening, moonlight through the hazy pollution hanging above Gotham city. It wasn't a night of patrol related to any Hydra activity but Artemis insists he gives the bond a chance. Despite his own skepticism, he pushes those feelings aside and accompanies the older man. He looks down below, the streets and alleyways scattered with tents and sleeping bags populated with the homeless.

He hasn't been to this part of Gotham when he and Bucky were stationed in the city. Much of their work either consisted of surveillance or out-of-state combat missions. Aiden glances at Jason, below them, he overhears the clopping of boots against pavement. A young boy is moving through the area that cuts through the tents.

"Be right back." Jason simply says, then drops from the ledge, swinging down using the fire escape to lessen the force of his landing.

Aiden stays above, watching in confusion. Jason interacts with the boy, much of their conversation indiscernible to Aiden. Jason glances at the various homeless, paying them very little attention, before Aiden decides to shift his attention upward, toward the sky. He takes a deep breath of the night air and exhales, feeling disoriented and strangely hollow. Aiden's growing more concerned for his new 'condition', he tries to control the tremble building inside of him.

The recent development of their research into the Hydra-related threat pointed towards a North-East region attempt to finish what Captain America stopped decades ago. It's clear that they plan on heading West and taking over other regions one after another. The thought makes Aiden anxious, he flinches when Jason returns, now hugging a large brown paper bag against his chest.

"Are we heading out now?"

"Not just yet." He lowers to the ground, unraveling the bag. Aiden keeps his distance, watching him.

Jason pulls out foiled objects followed by a few cans of soda, he's aware of Aiden's watchful eyes and remains casually focused on revealing the sandwich.

"What are you standing there for? Take a load off. Have something to eat." Jason holds the sandwich out to Aiden.

"We came all this way for some cheeseburgers? Don't tell me you got tired of the local Wendy's." Aiden resigns himself and takes the offered food. "'Cause I love Wendy's."

"Well, this food beats Wendy's."

The comment piques Aiden's interest. The silence that falls between them is a comfortable one. Jason has removed his helmet and taken to chowing down his food. Aiden watches the open display thoughtfully. Something shifts and settles in the bond, despite his own reservations, Aiden takes a bite of the burger followed by another.

 

-

 

"Why aren't we helping Batman?"

The question draws Artemis' attention away from the array of files neatly organized on the pin-up board. They've been one step behind when it came to tracking the Bow of Ra. She watches the exchange. Curious and apprehensive. Artemis knows enough to understand Jason's reluctance to talk about his past.

"We have other things to worry about."

"Alright, let me try again— why do you have  _such_  an issue with Batman?"

A stillness washes over Jason once he realizes Aiden wasn't going to easily back down from the subject. Jason locks Aiden with a cold stare.

"I think you need to relax."

"We haven't done  _anything_  but research since we left Shield." Aiden shoots Jason a look despite something in him advising him against it. "We haven't investigated or surveillanced any of the people we've picked out to be suspicious."

Jason reluctantly considers their options at the moment, he's been putting off any opportunity that may force him into a corner and talk about the Bat with an air of intimate familiarity. It always worked to speak as if he knows  _of_ him, because everyone does.

"Batman works  _alone_. If you're so bent on working that case, you can go and knock on the bat-cave door yourself for information."

Unsatisfied by his response, Aiden storms out of the space to collect his thoughts and emotions. They watch him leave.

Jason heaves a sigh, knowing what is possibly ahead.

"Maybe you don't have to go into details, but shouldn't he be aware of your earlier associations with the Batman? "

Jason considers that briefly, "Not now."

Artemis leaves the room to find Aiden.

Aiden looks out over the large expanse of greenery from his seat on the roof top ledge. Tall trees and at its horizon is the soft cool glow of the city lights. He thinks for a moment of the present and finds himself absently wondering where would he be if he chose to stay behind instead of fleeing with Jason. 

There's the sound of the doorknob being turned, it breaks the stillness of the night. When Aiden looks below him, Artemis walks outside, door closing behind her. 

"I was out of line." 

"You have your reasons." She's slow to raise her attention up to him. "It's okay to take a moment and focus on other matters, Aiden. We're all fighting for a cause."

"I feel like I'm running out of time. Like the longer I take is a minute longer that they're thinking I'm a bad guy when I'm  _not_."

Logically, he understands why they need to help Artemis retrieve the Bow of Ra before going into a fight against Hydra empty handed. But Aiden figured they would've accomplished this by now.

"Do you believe we are the 'bad guys'?"

Red Hood and his group were not the conventional 'good guys'.

Aiden parts his lips, ready to say just as much. Then, the light from the hallway is flicked on and spills onto the back yard space, encompassing two shadows. Jason joins them outside with a file in hand. The moment with Artemis momentarily shattered, her eyes linger on Aiden as he swings down from the ledge and accepts the file without lifting his eyes to Jason's face.

 

-

 

At an evening party venue on the edge of New York City, there's a large crowd occupying the open ballroom with a banner draped above: "To The Future!". It's a well-heeled party on the outside, but amongst its attendees, are powerful people with associations with their current mission. And some of who are aware of the Bow of Ra and privy to its location.

Artemis moves lithely through the crowd, like a tiger moving through the long grass, her eyes are appraising and calculating. They didn't have a face to their target, so they'll have to play this out by ear and pick them out.

A handsome gentleman crosses her path and catches her eyes. She returns it but once the man offers a smile, Artemis inclines her head and passes on the invitation to linger and steps around him. There's bodies between her and Aiden before she eventually approaches, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

"Will you be asking him to dance?"

Aiden straightens his rented tuxedo, he fixes his tie hoping to buy himself some time from answering.

Artemis places two fingers against the communicator nestled within her ear, "Bizarro, we're going to need an escape vehicle waiting on standby. East exit."

"Bizarro has a driver's license? He can even fit in a  _car_?"

"We're escaping in a mini-van. You should be more careful of what you ask, it may hurt his feelings." Artemis says, "Will you be inviting him to dance?"

"No idea, Bizarro sounds busy."

Aiden feels the moment when Artemis narrows her eyes on him, she doesn't comment.

"Isn't the point of these undercover missions to  _not_ draw attention to ourselves?" Aiden debates on swallowing the rest of his glass before throwing himself off another building this month. There was nothing more eye-catching than two men openly dancing at a venue as formal as this one.

"Red may say 'yes', if you ask. At the moment, it seems that I cannot promise your good health if you continue to let him flirt with those women for the rest of the night."

"I'm not a great dance partner." He glances across the dance floor to see Jason mingling with said women over at the bar. Artemis is observes Aiden closely.

Aiden knows well enough that Jason's interaction with them only served to be a component to his camouflage. He swirls his glass of wine. Moments like these, Aiden feels a need to relive old habits, an urge to step out and smoke a cigarette. It's been years since hes felt the craving. It's been a while since he bothered to remember that he's been clean of the habit.

"Are you that certain you can take me at your current skill-level?" She calmly stands out of her seat, eyes scanning the new crowd of people that entered the ballroom. "It sounds like you're challenging me."

Aiden throws back the remaining white wine with a difficult swallow and grimaces. 

"That's really not what this is."

Artemis looks down at him with an amused glint in her eyes before strutting away.

Clearing his throat, he pulls at the hem of his blazer coat and walks towards the end of the bar. He doesn't think Artemis believes him. Two tequila shots later, Aiden suddenly gets the balls to approach a preoccupied Jason Todd and tap him on the shoulder. He shouldn't be drinking while participating on an active mission, but it helps blend him into the atmosphere, he reasons.

"Care for a dance?"

Jason does a double-take. "Are you serious?"

"Well, if your answer is a 'no', then no, I'm joking. On the other hand if you accept, then yeah, I am."

"Could've sworn you mentioned that you hated these types of missions."

"I hate Twilight too, but if its on I'll still watch it." Aiden mutters.

If Bizarro hadn't stuck out like a sore thumb, Aiden would've been more eager to drive their get-away vehicle.

Jason is conflicted for all of 0.5 seconds before turning to the glass of clear liquid he was nursing in his other hand and taking it all in one shot. He readily grabbed Aiden by the elbow and tugged him along to the dance floor, nearly making him trip over his footing. The open display of manhandling doesn't go unnoticed by the party-goers and instead causes the dancers on floor to open for them.

"Jesus, alright,  _alright_." Aiden grouches, ready to take back his dance invitation.

Jason plants one of Aiden's hands onto his shoulder while taking the other, then moves his remaining hand to gently rest on the small of Aiden's back.

Whatever further grumbling he planned to do died in his throat at the mere intimacy of the scene. Something deep within him feels content even if the sight of Jason's clenched jaw was off-putting.

"You could've said no if you didn't want to dance." Aiden says. "You wouldn't have hurt my feelings. I'm more surprised you even know _how_  to dance."

"Some things just stay with you." Jason breaks their shared gaze and shifts his eyes to something over Aiden's shoulder. "You asked to dance."

The event is incredibly formal for Jason's taste. He rolls his eyes at the esteemed New York elite manifesting a live scene from Cinderella's dreams with the sparkling champagne flutes and couples filling the dance floor in graceful patterns across it.

"I'm pretty sure Artemis planned on skinning me in my sleep if I didn't snatch you away from your entourage."

Aiden hasn't been exposed to ballroom dancing, so it's surprising when he's keeping pace with Jason's footing. Something tells him Jason wouldn't appreciate being stepped on every other step.

"You're not going to do something ridiculous like dip me, right?"

"You're not exactly light." 

"You're not exactly weak either."

Jason's grin starts to dawn.

"Now it sounds like you  _want_ me to dip you."

A rumbling from above pulls most of the patron's attentions away from the evening's festivities. Aiden and Jason come to a pause in their next step, an explosion erupts from several floors above shaking everyone off balance. The chandelier hanging at the center of the space falls off its hinge and shatters against the floor. Shrieks and panic has the elite scattering in various directions looking for the exit.

They both break away from each other, slipping their communication devices into their ears. Jason strips off his blazer, discarding it to the side as he bolts for the hallway. Aiden stays in place, scanning his surroundings for any suspicious activity. Bullets penetrate the tall wall of frosted windows, shattering and coating the marble floor with fragments of glass. Aiden dives for cover, landing in the open hallway behind Jason and jabs the button to call the elevator.

On him was a small hunting knife, he didn't come heavily armed. Jason, Aiden knows kept a few handguns on his body at all time, wasn't using them. Whoever showered the venue in bullets, didn't come alone. They can overhear several pairs of heavy boots padding through the ballroom, creating a ruckus and smashing plates and glass.

"I take it we're not running."

"Since we're here, we should check out what's going on." Jason pulls him up to his feet by his elbow.

The elevator finally arrives, they board it nonchalantly.

"And you're not shooting at whoever shot at us first?"

Jason shows no tell-tale signs of anger. Allows a slight smile. "Yeah, it's something new I'm trying. Figured they didn't know who they were dealing with so I'd give them a chance to find out."

Aiden studies Jason an amused beat before offering a small snort. They step out of the elevator on the top floor, Aiden following immediately on Jason's heels, averting his eyes from the scattered bodies lining the hallway adjacent to a room with a large set of doors.

Instead of following Jason through, he stops short outside the room once noticing something move from his peripherals. He turns and returns to the intersection of hallways cautiously to investigate. Artemis stands in a mess of glass having entered through the windows, studying the man leaning over the large desk. She keeps her distance. Jason exchanges a glance with Artemis, both of them know to expect the NYPD and fire brigade soon enough. They should begin their investigation of the fresh crime scene while they can.

Over a silhouette, Aiden stands at the wall of windows in another end of the hall, breathing deeply. The bear-like creature stands several feet behind him and approaches. He observes below someone looking upwards at the building before taking off into an alleyway. Someone in connection to the explosion or a curious onlooker? Aiden blinks once then closes his eyes to blink twice but now he's standing along the curb of a street finishing his blink.

"Aide!"

Aiden glances up to find Bizarro floating above him. He lowers himself onto the ground beside Aiden, "Red and Red her try find you. Why run away?"

Aiden doesn't have an answer to that question.

"I'm sorry you had to come find me."

 

- 

 

In this corner of the room is a collage of new research, various pictures, articles and reports spanning a few weeks worth of Aiden burning himself out on anything possibly relating to Hydra activity. Jason hasn't been the biggest supporter of the way he spends his time, let alone Aiden's obsession over it. Artemis is sitting in front of a laptop, typing up from a scrawled pad of notes not oblivious to the atmosphere.

Aiden paces, avoiding sitting down once the news that Wayne Enterprises was also attacked at the exact same time their party venue encountered its own explosion. Buildings don't spontaneously explode at the same time, there was enough pattern to show intention. He missed most of the night's activities, his sudden disappearance not going unnoticed by Jason who doesn't take his eyes off of him.

"So they're targeting publicly well-known figures."

"And they're not trying to hide it." Artemis adds.

"Their plan is to take over, why would they try to hide a threat to the status quo?"

"That's  _all_  of the bad-guy's plans." Jason looks groggy, like he'd just rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Well, they might just be the bad guys who actually get close to _accomplishing_  it."

Aiden pours out a few aspirin tablets into his palm and dry swallows them, remaining agitated as he keeps his distance from Artemis and Jason. He knows he could allude to a connection between the explosions and the lack of neo-Nazi crimes over the past few weeks, but he holds his tongue, he's still waiting for his migraine to subside. 

"I believe it's a matter of time we talk about the elephant in the room." Artemis addresses Aiden almost directly, without singling him out by name, but all with a glance before closing her laptop.

Aiden's face goes slack, averting his attention elsewhere.

The door audibly clicks once she pulls the door shut behind her, a subtle sound yet so loud with the tension that's been lingering in the space between him and Jason since he returned with Bizarro.

"For the last month, I've been waiting for you to talk about  _it_. Whatever the hell's eating up at you."

Jason believes he's made effort to try and get his soulmate to open up without being outright as annoying as Dick or Tim could be. He's given Aiden space even against the urges of the bond.

"Because whatever it is, I  _feel_  it too." Jason says, "Before now, it never reduced your effectiveness out in the field, so I didn't bother bringing it up. But you  _disappeared_  last night and that puts the rest of us potentially at risk."

"I don't know what's going on with me." He turns his back on Jason's calculating gaze, his voice emotional and raw, Aiden won't keep evading the issue. Not when it starts taking away much needed spaces of time.

It's difficult for him to admit that for a reason unbeknownst even to himself, his life feels like it's separating from his reality without a clear cause. As of late, he thought that he was giving enough into the bond to satisfy its most basic needs.

"Artemis finds me sleep walking when I know I  _don't_  sleep walk.  _L-Last night_? I was in the hallway... then I blinked and I'm waking up on some random street. But I  _wasn't_  sleeping this time."

"That had to be at least  _four hours_."

The images playing on the television screen draws Aiden's attention. He walks towards it trying to focus on something that wasn't entirely this conversation. A female news anchor speaks inaudibly, on the corner of the screen is phone footage recording dark smoke coming from the highest floor of Wayne Enterprise.

"Since when? When did it start getting weird?" Jason's voice is closer. A calm washes over him and takes the edge off of his agitation.

"After we fully-bonded the nightmares started."

Jason eyes him with concern.

"Now, it feels like I'm losing control over myself." Aiden, can't bring himself to look at Jason over the weight of this conversation, "I don't know the next time I'll lose track of time. It could be during a mission and I... don't think I can stop it."

Jason's hands find purchase on his hips, exasperated. "This is why you should have laid off of the Hydra bullshit. It's not _our_ problem. Leave it to the Avengers and the Bat."

Aiden reacts, mildly disappointed by Jason not understanding his drive to make it their problem. "Shield is compromised and I want to get to the bottom of it. I want to save the Avengers."

Jason leans over the desk, hands gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white. "You want to save the Avengers." He huffs out a wry laugh. "When you and I both know that by yourself, you wouldn't  _last_. You wouldn't last long enough to come close to saving them if they needed it."

Aiden stands there a moment, stung and reeling from the confrontation. Moderately disappointed that he knows there's truth behind Jason's words.

"If you don't want to help save them, I'll do it  _all_ on my own without your damn pity." He snaps, the collected stress of sleepless nights finally catching up with him.

Once the words are said, Jason very slowly turns around. He doesn't say anything, lets the declaration lay there between them a moment.

Aiden doesn't begin to understand Jason's reluctance with working with other vigilantes on the case. Batman offers a range of resources and a network with other super-powered individuals that could help their cause. But whenever the topic of the Batman does come to discussion, something shifts in Jason's demeanor, slightly. Aiden never could bring himself to ask why.

"You were  _never_ interested in the Avengers unless they were involved in this for the wrong reasons." Aiden's composure is barely contained, "Even when we _did_  find evidence that pointed otherwise, you... never stopped seeing them as the enemy."

Jason mulls that over, "Knowing my track record, why does that surprise you? Did you really think that I'd join the Avenger's fan-club just because they're not on the wrong side? If they could, they'd lock me up first chance they'd get."

He shakes his head slowly, the corners of Jason's lips curl. "You're so convinced that they're not connected, that they're the 'good guys' but what's so good about them when you _couldn't_  even tell them what you thought was going on?"

Aiden can't find his words, his only response is a blink.

Jason's in his face then, teeth bared and crowding him against a table. Aiden fights the urge not to shrink under the proximity, knows that any sign of submission would work against him.

" _Face it_ , no matter how much you wanted to, you never could trust them." Jason bursts, voice full of needles.

"You wanna' go?" Aiden asks, really soft. "Try me, tough guy."

There's something about how the air shifts—a kind of electricity that cracks a rush of adrenaline through his veins, a fight is coming. Aiden's buzzing for Jason to throw the first punch. 

One second, Jason scoffs in disbelief, beginning to slap away the imaginary dust off Aiden's shoulders in a condescending manner. Next, they're both shoving each other into nearby furniture and Aiden doesn't remember how they got to rolling around the floor kicking and punching at any open body part they can reach. Aiden seems to be doing more of the attacking, the alert that Jason was already suffering damage from their brawl nearly an hour ago was a fleeting thought. Aiden was as equally controlled by his emotions.

There's a distant crash of something falling against the floor, they ignore it in favor of glaring heatedly at one another. Jason pinning his wrists to the space either side of him and their chests heaving. Aiden tastes blood, Jason's cheek blossoming a shade of pink.

At one point, he forgets to breathe; suffocating under piercing blues. In the distance is a low thrum of a fan on Jason's desk, Aiden's hearing numbed by the staccato bursts of his heart. He tries to tug himself out of Jason's grip, but he's unrelenting. Turning to the side his eyes are searching for a way out, he feels like a caged animal, he's panicking.

"Hey,  _hey_." That barely gets his attention, Jason's voice beginning to sound like a distant memory. " _Aiden_." 

Aiden's eyes stare at the hold Jason has on his wrists. Then he feels the press of Jason's forehead against his own, flinches at the unexpected weight on him and his eyes travel to meet the concern in Jason's.

"I don't..." Jason's voice goes suddenly soft, uncertain. "I need you to _breathe--_."

Aiden tries tugging his arms free once more but to no avail. His hearts thudding against his chest, Aiden hears the blood rushing in his ears and he doesn't hear the rest of that sentence because finally he snarls, _nearly_ begs but manages to mask it in his pent up rage, "Let me the fuck  _go_  already!"

He hooks his foot around Jason's ankle, bucks his hips and effectively rolls them over to the side, positions reversed. Aiden quickly backs off and trips over his footing, falling against a table but increases the distance between them— _you're good at that_ , his mind chides. 

Neither of them say anything.

Aiden stares at the floor, his jagged breath rattles in his ears, heart racing. Embarrassed by his outburst, he walks out of the room then the hideout. Moving with purpose, anxiety, resolve. He leaves despite knowing he had no place to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If a building suffers an explosion, don't take the elevator to investigate, you're better off taking the stairs. 
> 
> Typos to be expected.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
